


Promise in the Days Ahead

by laurie_ky



Series: Every Road Has Two Directions [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Artist Steve Rogers, Avengers sticking together, Clint's got a mysterious side, Doctor Bruce, Dragons, Engineer Tony, Except for Bruce, F/M, Fugitive Bruce, Hydra, Legal issues, M/M, Or not, Power Play dynamics between SHIELD and Ross, Project: Pave the way for Banner's safe return, Team Dynamics, The Serpent Society, Trauma Recovery, Where the hell is Thor?, Wishing on stars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:06:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 68,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurie_ky/pseuds/laurie_ky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Banner's gone. The Avengers on Earth will do what they can to protect their missing teammate and pave the way for his return. To do so, they're going to have to learn as much as they can about Bruce Banner.  Along the way they find themselves learning about each other as well, and the people that were thrown together to stop an alien invasion become a team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breaking the News

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Walking the Path Between Welcome and Exile](https://archiveofourown.org/works/498804) by [laurie_ky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurie_ky/pseuds/laurie_ky). 



> The title is lifted from [Between Far and Away, by The Elders](http://www.maxilyrics.com/the-elders-between-far-and-away-lyrics-0c49.html)
> 
> This is a continuation of Walking the Path Between Welcome and Exile. Of course it would be preferable to have read the first story in this series, but I think you can get the gist of what went on before by reading the second story alone.
> 
> The story was beta'ed by Sparrowhawk17 for the early chapters and she did the gorgeous banner for the first story. Her help was greatly appreciated.

_Every Road Has Two Directions_  
Russian Proverb

 

“ _I keep looking at the sky, cause it's getting me high._ No, no, not the 10mm ratchet, give me the 12mm one,” Tony yelled, interrupting his AC/DC sing-along session to set Dum-E straight. It felt great to be spending time in his workshop. He'd get Bruce down here, too. Bruce wasn't an engineer, but the boy knew his way around a toolbox, according to a footnote on Bruce's S.H.I.E.L.D. file.

Tony held out one hand imperviously, and wiggled his other one inside the gauntlet of what would someday be the Mark IX. He loved all of his Iron Man suits, but there was always room for improvement and specialization.

Dropping the correct ratchet into Tony's hand, Dum-E made a whirring, inquisitive sound. “Good job, Dum-E. We'll make a grease monkey out of you yet,” and he smiled fondly when Dum-E chirped happily at the praise. Tony pushed off hard against his worktable and his chair rolled to a new work station. 

Tony tightened up a connection and moved the glove through various motions, returning to humming along and occasionally chiming back in with an occasional line from a song as he finished the preliminary tests on the left gauntlet.

“ _If I go there will be trouble. An if I stay it will be double,”_ he sang. Hah. That was Bruce's theme song at the moment. Bruce worried too much. Tony's lawyers, plus calling in a few favors, would take of Bruce's legal problems.

Humming along to the Clash, he decided to add that song to the Banner/Stark list that he was throwing together. He wanted to listen to it whenever he and Bruce were both working in the Chitauri research lab. He didn't know if Bruce had figured out yet that he'd inspired some of the music on that list. Probably not. Bruce got a faraway look in those brown eyes of his when he started doing research. Although he would talk to Tony and follow along with the conversation, he was mostly on autopilot while that big, beautiful brain of his was figuring out the secrets to the universe. 

Since he'd gone about as far with testing as he could on the designs on the Mark IX, he decided that playtime was over. He planned on heading back up to the alien tech lab after Bruce was awake and he'd drag Bruce along. He wanted to consult about the amazing theories that Bruce was coming up with before Tony dove back into understanding the Chitauri and their tech.

He collapsed his files, ending the volumetric display, locked up the gauntlets, and ordered Butterfingers and Dum-E to put away his tools in his deluxe Snap-on tool chests. Snap-on execs would fall over themselves wanting to pay him for endorsements if they knew how much he used their products. Hmm.

“JARVIS.”

“Sir?”

“Make a note, oh, and send a copy to Pepper. File: Snap-on. Subfolder: Endorsements. Folders: Avengers funding; Avengers Cleanup Costs.”

He paused, attention wandering as he estimated just how much the cleanup bill for Manhattan was going to be, until JARVIS gave a discrete cough.

“Hold your programming. I was thinking.”

“Of course you were, Sir,” JARVIS said dryly.

Tony grinned. He fucking loved it when JARVIS was sassy. 

“Record: Snap-on tools are used by Tony Stark. No, really, I use them. They're good tools. Send out feelers to Snap-on about endorsing them and having the money donated to funding the Avengers and contributing to the clean up cost from Loki's turning the city into his battle ground. End recording.”

“Noted, Sir.”

Tony got himself a bottle of water and rolled back to the computer station. Pulling up his music lists, he threw them into the air intending to have something mindless to do with his hands while he thought about Fury and his devious ways. The one-eyed bastard said he'd gotten orders from the Council to put the Avengers back on ice. The same bunch of talking heads that had ordered a fucking missile strike on Manhattan. Fury had disobeyed those orders, bless his bald head and one bloodshot eye.

Fury must have figured he could have his cake and eat it, too. He'd told them they were disbanded, and Banner should go into voluntary protective custody with S.H.I.E.L.D. He'd followed his orders, but oh, look, the Avengers staged a mutiny with Cap at the helm and they're still the fucking Avengers. What's a director of a super-sekrit-spy agency to do.

He chugged the water as he flicked through some classic rock, shooting a few appropriate tunes to the Banner/Stark list. Walsh's _Life's Been Good_ and _I Can't Drive 55_ by Hagar, those were for him. Bruce, for God's sake, had said he'd walked a lot to get to wherever he was going. That, and hitchhiking. Okay, he'd look for a hitchhiking tune for Bruce. 

He found _Hitch Hike_ by the Stones and with a flick of his finger sent it spinning over to join his playlist. Cool. He'd grab a couple more Bruce tunes, then go and wake him up and fix him a sandwich. Twelve hours was long enough to sleep. He found more Bruce songs to add, _Carry On Wayward Son_ and _Ramble On_ , decided he'd look for one more and quit. 

He was debating adding _Free Bird_ when Steve opened the lab door. 

“Hey, Cap, what's up?” Tony said, looking over but only half paying attention, as he decided _Free Bird_ worked as a Bruce song and pushed it over with one finger to the playlist.

Then he glanced again at Steve and shut everything down because it didn't seem likely Steve had dropped by to hang out with Tony. Steve was being Captain America, and that meant something really was up.

“Tony, I need to talk to you.” Steve was walking fast towards him and Tony quickly riffled through his  
memory for anything he'd done recently that might have put that expression on Captain America's face. 

Maybe his brilliant ability to break into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s computers, er, no, his brilliant _testing_ of S.H.I.E.L.D's systems was going to be an issue. Tony thought of his hacking as coming under his arrangement to be a consultant. He was helping S.H.I.E.L.D. with tightening up their cyber security. Fury was _paying_ him to do this shit. 

Steve stopped in front of him, serious and intent. Tony stared up at him and decided he'd just spill the beans now to avoid the interrogation. Steve wouldn't approve of Tony's somewhat fluid ethics when it came to dealing with S.H.I.E.L.D., but it was S.H.I.E.L.D. They needed Tony to prod at them and keep them sharp. 

“Okay, Cap, I know what you're going to say.”

“Tony--” 

“But really, I'm doing S.H.I.E.L.D. a service by testing their computer security. I wiggle my way in, have some fun, they act like an embarrassed girl whose boyfriend's nimble fingers whisked her bra off while making out, they get their tits covered back up, and I go back to testing. I'm a consultant, you know. I can totally do this kind of shit and as a bonus, I get paid.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Is what you're doing with your nimble fingers called hacking? Where you can monitor or take information from somebody else's computer?”

“Uh, yes?” Tony gave him one of his most charming smiles, but, of course, Captain America seemed immune to it.

“Can you do it and not let the lady know you've been disturbing her clothes?” Steve asked thoughtfully.

“Well, sure. But me hacking into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s systems has been more in the line of light entertainment.”

“By that you mean?”

“Cap, they know I'm doing it; they like to catch me. It's educational for them. I'm hoping to spot Fury taking a nap in his underwear in his office and post it to all the baby agents' monitors. Cheer the poor little darlings right up.” Tony tried smiling again at Steve. Steve was not smiling back.

“Tony, why are you telling me this?” Steve was eying him like he was a jack-in-the-box that had popped open and might bop him with his long springy arms. 

“Because of the look on your face when you came in here and said you needed to talk to me. I'm a busy man. I figured I'd save both of us some time and admit to the only thing I could come up with that you would disapprove of this week.”

Tony wasn't joking about saving time. He'd actually done an experiment when he was fourteen, and the results clearly had proved that just confessing and getting the disappointment in him stage over quickly freed up So Much Time. 

Steve said, “I'm not your Jiminy Cricket, Tony.”

“You tend to radiate disapproval, though. So, you a Disney fan?”

“ I saw Pinocchio in 1940. The animation was fantastic.”

“You went for the art?”

“Sure. I was an artist before I became a soldier, Tony. Guess people don't remember that about me. Let's get back to hacking, though. It's against the law.”

“It's just a hobby now.” 

“You're not a juvenile delinquent. So you must have good reasons to do it.” 

“II hacked into S.H.I.E.L.D's files on the helicarrier and found out about the plans for weapons based on that giant robot Loki sent to whip Thor's ass, remember?” 

“I do. I think we'll need to talk more about your nimble fingers later. We're going to want to listen in to what S.H.I.E.L.D. is doing when it comes to our team.”

“Wait. Captain America is suggesting that I--”

“But you should do it quietly, Tony. You can still be loud to draw their attention away from what you're really doing, though.” Steve said, then he looked very serious again. “But I came to talk to you about Bruce.” 

“Bruce? Why aren't you calling him Doctor Banner? Don't you respect him anymore?”

“I respect Bruce.”

“I dunno. You're being awfully familiar by using his first name.” Tony was just kidding, but Steve's declaration the other day that he would call Bruce by his title to show his respect had been kind of sweet and old-fashioned. So of course Tony wanted to mess with him about it.

Steve's face pinked up. That was interesting. Captain America was blushing. Maybe he had a crush on Bruce. Well, who didn't? Bruce was so damn smart and so casual about his brilliance. He was a bundle of contradictions – how cool was it that he actually changed mass and height to become the Hulk – and had expressive, beautiful eyes. Tony was sure Bruce had no idea how much he gave away with his brown eyes. When he wore his glasses he looked uber cute. His hair was inviting. Tony personally had a hard time keeping his hands out of Bruce's curls. He'd gotten away with it a couple of times, once when Bruce was sleeping and once when he was teasing him. 

Yep, Banner was a cutie, and maybe Steve had enjoyed carrying the good doctor up to bed a lot more than Tony had realized. He'd helped Tony undress Bruce, after all. Still, Steve hadn't blushed then, so something must have changed.

“Do you have anything to confess, Steven Rogers?” Tony said, assuming a stern tone.

“This isn't the time, Tony,” Steve said, the flush fading from his face. “I need to tell you about Bruce.” 

“So Captain America doesn't kiss and tell?” He caught the small startled expression that Steve made before he smothered it, and Tony started to laugh.

“Really, Rogers? Have you and Bruce been kissing? I think I'm jealous.” If Tony hadn't had his Pepper, he'd have been all over Bruce. It was fascinating that Steve had the same thoughts. Tony was going to owe Clint money now. 

“How do you do-- Never mind.” Steve took Tony by the shoulders. “Just stop talking and listen. Bruce is gone. He left this morning to go back into hiding.”

Damn it, he should have told JARVIS to let him know if Bruce left the building. 

“JARVIS, can you confirm that Bruce is not in the building?” Maybe Steve was wrong. Bruce was probably still sacked out. He was just catching up on rest from changing into the big guy and beating the snot out of Loki and his space pals four days ago. JARVIS kept Tony informed about Bruce's sleep habits and Tony made no excuses for invading Bruce's privacy. Bruce, and the team, would assume it was because Bruce might change into the Hulk. Bruce and the other guys would be wrong about that.

“Captain Rogers is correct; Doctor Banner is no longer within Stark Tower.”

Tony jumped up from the stool, shrugging off Steve's hands. “Well, let's go get him and bring him back. I know Fury spooked him, but he doesn't have to run. Not any more.”

“Tony.” Steve said it like he was breaking bad news gently; and no. Fuck that shit.

“Do you know where he went? I can get there fast in the suit, talk him down off the ledge.”

“I don't know where he went, Tony.” 

JARVIS announced, “Sir, he left the Avengers a video message and instructed me to play it six hours after he departed.” 

Steve put a hand on Tony's shoulder again. “JARVIS, ask Clint and Natasha to join us in... Tony, what room? Somewhere where we can watch Bruce's message and maybe use your computers?”

Tony shook off Steve's hand. “How the fuck did you find out about this, Rogers?”

“Tony, calm down.” Tony hated that reasonable tone in Steve's voice. He narrowed his eyes at Captain fucking America. 

“Did he tell you he was leaving and you kept that to yourself?” He used the tone of voice he saved for members of the Armed Services Senate committee. 

“Not directly. He wanted me to have plausible deniability.”

Tony exploded. “Son of a bitch! Fuck you and your plausible deniability. I could have helped him, talked him out of his panic attack, for God's sake. You should have called me!”

“It's not about what you want, Stark. I didn't want him to leave, but it wasn't my decision. I'm sorry, Tony. It's not your decision either.” Steve had lifted that adamant chin of his, but his voice was caring, concerned. Tony wanted him to yell back, to make himself a target for Tony to aim his rage towards. But damn it, Steve was just absorbing Tony's anger, siphoning it away from him. But Bruce. . . a fucking fugitive again? Tony just wasn't having that.

He poked Steve in the chest. “I'm going to find him and bring him back here. He's a genius; he belongs in the best labs money can buy, not out there washing dishes for a living. The sheer waste of that man's talents-- I'm furious.”

“I need to update the others, Tony. What room?”

Tony scowled. “JARVIS, have our two spies meet us at Conference Room Sixty. And ask Pepper to join us there. Tell her I need her. Are you going to help me get him back, Rogers?”

Steve slowly shook his head. “I want to hear what Bruce has to say. I don't know his exact reasons for leaving, but I do know he believed he had no choice.”

Tony frowned again. “He should have talked to me. My lawyers can take care of the legal stuff.”

“He didn't leave for himself, Tony. I think he left for us. I'm sorry, he knew this would be hard on you.”

Tony fisted a hand and drove it into his other palm. “You should have let me know what he was doing. He's got no money, nothing, really. Even the clothes on his back are probably mine.” 

The first flush of anger was fading now. Tony felt like his emotions had been tossed in a dryer; they were all tumbled together and still spinning around and around. “All right, all right. Let's go watch his farewell speech. Maybe I can figure out where he's going from what he says.” 

Steve put his hand on Tony's shoulder and squeezed. This time, Tony didn't shrug him off.


	2. Bruce's Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce left the team a video. It's not going to be easy to watch it.

**Bruce's Message**

“All right, JARVIS. Play it,” Tony said, and sat down by Pepper. Cap had asked them to hold their comments and questions until after they'd watched Bruce's video. Natasha and Clint and Steve had already claimed chairs at the conference table before Pepper had briskly walked into the room, her high heels clicking against the floor. Tony had been too wound up to sit quietly, so he'd waited for Pepper out in the hallway.

The air shimmered for a moment, then firmed up. He was looking into Bruce's room, judging by the battered backpack on the floor. It was 2:30am according to the numbers on the bedside clock. The focus changed a little and he could see Bruce, sitting on his rumpled bed wearing his oh-so-rumpled blue Indian shirt and shabby trousers. Bruce looked up from staring at his hands and smiled with that wry expression that was just so Bruce it hurt Tony a little to see it. 

Bruce gave a little wave of his fingers. “Umm... hi, guys. JARVIS said he would let you know about this message after I left, so I'm assuming you know I've taken off.”

He ran his hand through his curls and looked apologetically at the camera. “Hope I, ah, haven't been caught.” He started fiddling with the hem of his long shirt with both hands, rolling it up a little and then smoothing it out.

“So. Thanks. And, um, sorry. Natasha, I am sorry about the helicarrier. I know that isn't going to stop you from having nightmares. Me, too.” He worried his lip for a moment, then took a deep breath. “You see the other guy's face, probably, but I see yours. So, I'm sorry.”

Bruce dropped his eyes again briefly, and then looked back up. “Tony, I couldn't stay. I was tempted, but not because you offered to give me a lab. A job, security. All of your generosity, it's, well...” He chuckled briefly, sounding honestly amused. “Actually, it's been sort of overwhelming, like this madcap fairy godfather suddenly adopted me. Hey, you know? Steve drew pictures of us. You should maybe look at them. And... thanks for trusting me to come back to fight.”

Bruce was silent for a moment or two, then said softly, “It would have been nice, to stay.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and then shook his head while a grin emerged. “Clint, I hope you've won whatever bet you made on me staying or going. If you did, you owe me another beer. Drink it for me, okay? And thanks, for, uh, explaining about my code name.”

He stopped playing with the hem of his shirt and scrubbed his hands through his hair and over his face. He looked so tired. Tony wondered where the hell he was now, broke, exhausted, hunted. He was a fucking hero. It should never have come to this, that Bruce Banner, genius, was on the run again. He should have been given the fucking key to the city.

Bruce's voice, soft and awkward sounding, interrupted Tony's thoughts. “I doubt that Thor is with you guys, but, Thor, if you do ever listen to this... goodbye. I don't actually remember a lot of the battle with the Chitauri, but I do remember us fighting together to take down a leviathan. And, uh, sorry about the other guy swinging at you. And for what Loki's put you through.”

Bruce cleared his throat and Tony noticed how Bruce kept running one finger over the knuckles of his other hand. So making this video wasn't just a walk in the park for Bruce, because the way he moved his hands was clearly communicating that he was stressed. 

“Steve. I was glad to meet Captain America. I guess I was like most kids and wished I could be as good and as brave as you. And you are, but I really like that I met Steven Rogers, too. You've got a gift with your art and I hope you keep drawing." His expression altered, looking almost shy. " I don't know if it happened this way, but I plan to ask if you want to go with me to the Met to see your exhibit. I'm going to leave from there, but I thought maybe you might like a friend around when you look at the drawings you made during WWII.”

Bruce looked up, and said, “JARVIS, please unlock my files and make them available when this video is watched. Thank you. And thank you for helping me.” 

Bruce fell silent, and one hand pushed through his curls.

“You guys can look at the files if you need to see the sources for my decision, but I'm leaving for a couple of reasons. For one, the Hulk is going to hurt the Avengers being accepted as a legitimate group formed to protect this world. If you read my files you'll see the reaction to the other guy in the media and people's blogs. JARVIS crunched the numbers for me, and I think people are always going to be afraid of him, scared that he'll hurt not just the bad guys, but whoever is around during any future fights. You guys don't need my baggage making things more difficult for you.”

Bruce sighed. “Tony, this is mostly for you. And don't blow me off, okay?” 

He plastered on a stern look, eyebrows drawing closer. “I know you've got a lot of influence and you probably have the best lawyers in the country.” 

Pointing a finger at the camera, Bruce went on. “I mean this, Tony. So listen.” He stressed the last word, painfully sincere.

“It's not going to be enough. I did my homework, and you can't rescue me. I haven't been charged again with being a domestic terrorist, but that's going to change. It's not a matter of if, but when. And when starts as soon as I become the Army's problem again. If you're seen as supporting me, and that means shelter, food, a job, paying for lawyers, any sort of support, then you're liable for charges, too. Your assets can be seized. The government can get its hands on Stark Industries. Your Iron Man suits. None of this has to go through court for it to happen. I'm not letting you take this kind of risk. Don't be careless and think the government won't take you on because you're Iron Man. They'll do it because you are Iron Man and you've defied them about turning over your research and suits.”

Bruce shook his head. “I suppose somebody listening is going to point out that if I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. my legal problems would go away. I'm not convinced of that. But the main reason I'm not turning myself in to S.H.I.E.L.D. is that I can't afford to trust them to not experiment on me. My blood is dangerous. More than just the exposure to gamma radiation if you handle it. Ross and his kind will use it to continue experimenting with genetic manipulations, changing human beings, because they want the Hulk's strength. Worse than me could be created if they have access to my body.”

Bruce shrugged and said, “Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. would leave me alone, just expect me to help out the Avengers and do research, but they built a cell to keep me captive. I can't trust them and take that chance. I can't.”

His expression shifted back to that wry smile again. “I'm caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, a rock and a hard place. So, I'm leaving. Please, respect my wishes and don't try to find me. Let me say that again, so that Tony pays attention. Don't try to find me. S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Army will expect you to do it and will try to track me through you. I'll be okay. And you guys, you stay safe and fight the good fight. But, and I'm really trusting you not to abuse this, if you have a situation where I would really be needed or the other guy would be really needed, send a Code Green message out through the media. If I can, I'll come.”

He shifted his legs, brought them up on the bed to sit cross-legged. “Fury can see this video. So can Ross. Uh, if they see this you'd better add something only we would know to that Code Green signal. I want it clearly understood that I left here today without telling anybody what I was doing. Nobody conspired with me, nobody smuggled me out. I left openly without anyone's help. And that was my right, since I haven't been charged with anything at this time.”

He arranged his hands in the classic pose for meditation, palms up and open on his knees. “So, kids, thanks for asking me to play. I won't forget any of you.” 

He closed his eyes and JARVIS kept filming for a short time, while Bruce deepened his breathing and sat so very quietly. Tony wanted to curse, wanted to pull Bruce to his feet and hug him and yell at him, because Tony could beat those legal charges with one hand tied behind his back. 

The volumetric screen went dark. 

Tony stood up and with dramatic gestures threw open Bruce's files so they all could see them. Everyone else pushed out of their chairs, standing in a loose circle around the files hanging in the air. Clint snagged one and brushed his hand over it so he had his own copy. Pepper did likewise. Steve opened one of the originals and started skimming it.

Tony said angrily, “Alright. What happened here? I'd really like to know why JARVIS and Captain America let Bruce just run away without even trying to help him with his problems.”

“Sir, Doctor Banner made a careful and considered decision.”

“And you didn't let me in on what he was up to, JARVIS. I'm still waiting to hear a reason.”

“Might I remind you, sir, that you programmed me to use my own judgment, unless you give me a direct order. You did not. Doctor Banner's actions protected you. I concurred with his reasoning, considering the current situation regarding him and the Hulk. I did not, however, enjoy watching him choose exile.” 

“JARVIS, do you have eyes on him now?” Tony asked hopefully.

“No sir. Doctor Banner requested that I not track him.”

Steve said, “Tony, I want Bruce on the team, but he made his decision--”

Tony didn't let him finish. “So what if he's got people scared to death of him right now. That can be turned around. We start a line of Hulk plushy toys; we do some god-damned PR work. Banner's story gets told the right way, and people are going to see a tragic hero. The Avengers do some interviews and talk about how the Hulk saved this city twice over. If the right people interviewed him, he'd win people over just by being himself.”

Pepper breathed out a sigh. “Oh, Tony.”

“I can fix this, damn it,” Tony said to her, and even he could hear the pain in his voice. “I just need to use the right tools.”

Natasha opened a new file with a controlled, tight movement of her hand. “I knew he was leaving this morning. I chose not to stop him or notify S.H.I.E.L.D. Fury won't be pleased.”

“You knew and didn't-” Tony shot accusing looks at the group, then settled on staring at Natasha. “Bruce doesn't lie, so he didn't tell you either, did he? He's not exactly the Sphinx, I'll grant you that, so you what? Could tell by the expression on his face?”

Natasha gave him a deadpan look.

Tony threw his arms up in the air. “Did everybody know he was going except me?” 

Clint stopped reading and waved his hand. “Nope, I missed the memo, too. Nat? You figure it out this morning practicing with him?”

She gave a slight shrug of her shoulder and said something softly in Russian.

“Da,” Clint said. “If he decides to trust S.H.I.E.L.D. and if Fury can keep Ross from taking over.”

Tony frowned. “JARVIS, translate what Agent Romanoff said.”

“Sir, Agent Romanoff quoted a proverb. 'Every road has two directions', although I would suggest that you ask her what meaning she assigns to those words. Personal interpretation varies so, as you know.” 

Natasha gave Tony one of the looks she'd perfected when she'd been undercover as his PA. He resisted the urge to duck for cover.

She relented, though, and sighed. “Bruce would not do well here, feeling trapped. Let him fly and he may return.”

Steve said, “Natasha and Clint, what's your take on Bruce's situation?”

Natasha shook her head slowly. “For Bruce Banner, there is no choice that isn't dangerous. We know Hydra is interested in him. And he is probably right about General Ross coming after him again. Fury hinted at that during our last meeting. S.H.I.E.L.D., though, asked too much of Bruce in return for their protection. I promised him he would be safe with S.H.I.E.L.D., that he wouldn't be taken and used. Now I'm not sure if that promise could be kept. Fury would fight it, but he could be ordered by the Council to turn Bruce over for experimentation. Although I don't know how they would control him.” 

She looked at Tony. “Stark, he wasn't wrong about how the Hulk is seen, but you're not wrong, either. He bought you time to sway the public into accepting him.”

Clint added, “Reading this?” He waved a hand at the files floating in the air. “Fury left Banner out when he turned loose the S.H.I.E.L.D. spin doctors for the rest of us. Wants to keep strong-arming him, I think, so he'll agree to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s protection.” 

He tightened his mouth and shook his head. “Could have told Fury that Kwai Chang won't barter his soul. Fury is too cynical sometimes. Swapping sex for survival doesn't mean Bruce would agree to join S.H.I.E.L.D. for protection against Ross and the Army. He wouldn't put other people at risk, if he guessed wrong about S.H.I.E.L.D. experimenting on him.” 

Steve looked sharply at Clint, and Tony felt his eyes widen. _Oh, Bruce,_ , he thought, _You had to do that, too?_ He'd missed this information, how had he missed this? Mentally, he reviewed the files that S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent him; damn it, they'd left that out. He'd wring the details out of Clint later. 

“Tony. I knew, too.” Pepper turned and faced him, no trace of the smile he loved on her face. “I spoke with Doctor Banner this morning at his request. 'Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies,' he said, and I knew he was going to leave.”

“Pep, I--”

Pepper lifted her chin. “Tony, he made a point of stating I didn't know what he going to do, and he wasn't saying what his plans were. He wrote out a note for S.H.I.E.L.D. to pay his consultant fee to me, and I gave him seven hundred dollars. He also left a letter for your lawyers stating that you do not have his permission to act on his behalf.”

“And you didn't tell me what you thought he was up to? Why?” Tony looked reproachfully at her, and then looked at Natasha and Steve. “Why didn't any of you clue me in about what was going on?” 

Pepper stood up even straighter in her high heels. “I'm sorry, Tony. I know he's your friend, but obviously Doctor Banner was afraid that you'd talk him out of doing what he thought was right or throw a scene or have him followed. Otherwise, he would have found you to say a cryptic goodbye. And he was right about the danger to you, to Stark Industries.”

Steve said, “Miss Potts, you're certain about that?”

She turned to Steve and nodded, then walked over to Tony and caught his hand in her own. “I've read your lawyers' opinions and you would be vulnerable to charges yourself for letting Doctor Banner stay here, sheltering him, if he's charged with being a domestic terrorist. When he researched his options, he saw that. You should respect his wishes and stay out of it.” She touched his face, her palm cupping his chin before letting him go. 

“Where's that note? Give it to me and I'll tear it up.” Tony held his hand out, but Pepper shook her head in refusal.

“No, Tony. I acted as Doctor Banner's agent and I sent it to your lawyers already. I also have copies in safe places. I'm sorry, but I think it's for the best. He's a nice man, but it was dangerous for him to stay here.” 

If Tony hadn't known Pepper as well as he did, he might have missed hearing the shakiness in her voice. But he did know her, and she was upset. It had to be about Bruce.

“Dangerous for him? Meaning he would be in danger? Or did you mean dangerous for us if he stayed here?” Tony had picked up on things being a little off kilter between Bruce and Pepper but thought it was just some initial awkwardness. Now, though, he was seeing Pepper's actions in a different light.

Pepper bit her lip.

“Were you scared of him, Pep? Worried he'd turn into the Hulk and go on a rampage?” Tony slid his arm around her waist. 

She nodded and he tightened his hold. Pepper was the most level-headed person he knew. She'd actually met Bruce and had shared a meal with him. Tony was struck with a new appreciation for the struggle it was going to be to change the public's perception about Bruce if even his Pepper feared him. 

Pepper's eyes were wide. She shuddered. “If I think about how he can change from a man to that thing, then yes. He's terrifying. I've seen the footage of what he can do.”

Natasha interjected thoughtfully, “Bruce is complicated: quiet, kind, gentle--”

Tony interrupted her. “He wouldn't hurt you, Pepper, he's--” Natasha gave him a look that promised pain in his near future if he didn't stop interrupting her. 

Natasha looked at Pepper. “He's brilliant and resourceful, stubborn, and resilient, but he can let you see the Hulk peeking out, if he wants to intimidate you. In Kolkata, he did it to test me. He genuinely doesn't want to hurt people, and even as the Hulk, he normally doesn't attack unless he's attacked first. He does bluster and roar and destroy things to make people leave him alone. His fight or flight reflex dominates him when he's the Hulk.” 

Pepper shuddered again. “I've tried not to think about him like that, as the Hulk, and look at the man instead. He seems like a sweetheart. And I know he's had a sad life and he's going back to a terrible way to live, but I don't want him under the same roof as me.”

Natasha came closer to Pepper and laid her hand on Pepper's arm. She let it linger there, staring hard at Tony when he opened his mouth to defend Bruce. He got the message. He shut up.

Natasha said, “Pepper, on the helicarrier, he did go after me, but Loki's weapon was influencing him. I don't hold him responsible any more than I hold Clint responsible for Loki mind-controlling him. And Bruce had just fallen from an upper deck after an explosion; he was hurt. Dazed and scared. I'm sure he was in pain. He tried to hold back. I could see the despair in his eyes when he realized he was changing. He warned me to run.”

Pepper stepped away from Tony and crossed her arms over her chest. “Natasha, he almost killed you. You trapped him in Kolkata, and I think he resented you for that. He didn't really have any other options, did he, if he refused Fury's offer?”

“He's smart,” Natasha answered her. “He realized I had backup outside. So no. He had no real options. He could have changed to the Hulk and fought his way clear, maybe. We know bullets only annoy the Hulk, but the agents had tranquillizer guns, too. But Bruce honestly doesn't want to put other people in danger. That's why he came with me, and yes, he resented me for it. He also wanted to help find the Tesseract.” 

“Bruce as himself might not have wanted revenge, but as the Hulk, he came after you. Tony told me about it,” Pepper said firmly. Clint was miming locking his mouth and throwing away the key and pointed at Tony. Tony just shrugged back. He didn't pretend to be a spy like those two, and he'd mostly always told Pepper about everything. Well, except for almost dying, but hey. He'd been trying to be considerate and not worry her. 

Natasha shrugged. “I think there's some truth to that. But even though he swatted me, after seeing him fight the Chitauri I know he was holding back. I wouldn't be alive if he hadn't.”

“What do you mean?” Pepper asked, dubiously.

“Right before Thor diverted his attention from me, he was thinking of hitting me again.” 

Tony wasn't sure how she did it, but her tone of voice, the way she moved closer to Pepper, it was like they were the only two people in the room right now. Two women sharing confidences. Natasha was being... very personal now. Another aspect of the Black Widow, he supposed. He didn't think it made what she was saying any less true.

“Pepper, his stance... standing over me, ready with the back of his hand to hit me, well, it wasn't the way a man takes out an enemy. It was the way a man punishes his woman who displeases him. And he hesitated. His expression changed. I don't know, but I hope he was going to stop himself, let me go.”

“He's so violent,” Pepper whispered.

Natasha nodded. “The Hulk can be, true. But there have never been any reports of Bruce himself being abusive to others, and I know something of his former lover. She would not have continued a relationship with Bruce if he had tried to hurt her. Hulk was imitating someone else, I believe; someone that had hurt Bruce, perhaps, or that Bruce watched abuse others.” 

Pepper looked unconvinced. Natasha caught her hand and squeezed it. “It's hard, I know,” Natasha soothed her. “I know. But Hulk isn't mindless. If he's not goaded into a rage, he can control his actions.”

She let go of Pepper's hand and stepped away. The room fell silent, thoughtful expressions on Steve's and Clint's faces.

Steve said, “I want to explain something to Tony. I realized Bruce was going to leave when I tailed him to the Met. He said he wanted to do a test run to see if people recognized him when he went with me to the exhibit. He wasn't recognized. When I told him I knew he was leaving, he became insistent that he had to go, although he refused to actually say it in plain words. Like Natasha, I didn't try to stop him.”

Pepper said, “Of course not. He might have transformed to get away.”

Steve straightened his shoulders and smiled gently at Pepper. “No, Miss Potts. That didn't concern me at all. Bruce wouldn't do that unless the stakes were a lot higher than his immediate safety or freedom. I didn't keep him from leaving because I'm not going to help coerce Bruce into forced labor of any kind. That stinks of Nazis and Hydra and their callous disregard for human life.”

Steve jerked his thumb towards the brightly glowing files hanging in the air. “We'll work on an agenda that will make it safer for Bruce to stay away and to return eventually. As far as I'm concerned, he's still an Avenger, just out on leave. We need more intelligence before coming up with a plan to help him, though. Tony, it's time for us to have that talk about your nimble fingers. Everyone finish reading the files, especially the legal ones. Let's meet back here in an hour, and we'll talk strategy.”

* * *


	3. Steve Takes Charge

“I'll take care of Director Fury, Tony,” Steve was being all Captain America about this. He looked – spangly, even if he was wearing regular clothes. Tony felt a wave of rebellion rising up at the order Steve had just given, in his firm, 'Captain America is doing the right thing' voice.

Fury had handled Bruce all wrong. Tony wanted to explain in detail to the one-eyed bastard just how much his strong-arming Bruce hadn't worked. He drummed his fingers on the top of the rosewood table, thinking. Across the table from him, Clint was slouched down in his chair, frowning and staring up at the ceiling. He looked a million miles away. 

Their little strategy session on how to best help Bruce had concluded with tasks for all of them to do. Tony had to admit that Captain America was as talented and as clear with planning long-term strategy as he'd been with giving them impromptu orders during the Battle of Manhattan. Tony had no problem with Steve taking charge. He had no problem with following Steve's lead for making Bruce's life on the run safer and paving the way for him to return someday, and stay free. Not giving Fury any shit, uh, no.

“Stark, if you indulge yourself in this childish desire to throw a tantrum at Fury, you will undermine Steve's authority. The Avengers will not be seen as a team, but as people just thrown together by circumstance and splintering apart now that the crisis has passed. The director is more willing to listen to Steve. He grew up respecting the legend of Captain America, and should we not give Bruce that edge?” Natasha looked pointedly at Tony, then rose gracefully from the conference room table and poured herself a cup of coffee from the hospitality cart.

He knew she was still watching him from across the room. Damn it. She never tolerated him indulging in dramatic self-expression without calling him on it. And _No,_ he didn't pout when he couldn't have his way. That... no. He wasn't pouting. It was just that usually his way was so much better. _Why_ couldn't other people see that?

He brooded while she sipped her coffee, and now he felt Cap's eyes on him, too. God, double-teamed. Clint sat up abruptly and Tony glanced at him. Clint slowly shook his head. Tony narrowed his eyes, staring at him. Hell, not even Clint was on his side. Clint usually wasn't averse to causing a little mayhem. Maybe he should think this through a little more. 

Steve was sitting patiently at the other end of the table. He was giving Tony space to reconsider, he knew Steve was, and he felt appreciative of that and annoyed at the same time. 

He rolled around in his mind the likely consequences of unloading his opinion on Fury, and then sighed. He hated to admit it, but he could see Natasha's point. She was a hell of a profiler; nobody could read people like she could. 

He sighed again. Loudly. Okay, he'd take her advice. He still wanted to shove his boot up Fury's ass, though. It would have to keep. He nodded at Steve.

Steve rose and walked around the table. He laid his hand on Tony's shoulder. “C'mon, Soldier. Let's go. We can take turns with the punching bag and you can pretend it's Fury's head. I've got to be calmer myself before I talk with him.”

That sounded... actually, that sounded kind of attractive to Tony. “Can I draw an eye patch on the bag?”

Steve laughed, and Tony stood up, grumbling, “Okay, okay. Fury's yours. Anyway, I need to put my nimble fingers to use after we're done managing our anger. I'll make sure we know what S.H.I.E.L.D.'s up to concerning Bruce.”

“I'm leaving,” Natasha said. “I have some contacts in the city that might know why Hydra wants Bruce.” 

“If you need a hand, call me,” Clint told her.

Nodding, she said something in Russian again, and Clint stood up, saying, “I'll meet you in your room. I want to pull some things from Bruce's file first, give Stark a list of people who Bruce helped over the years.”

“Send it to Pepper, Clint. She's in her office. She knows PR work forwards and backwards,” Tony said, and started walking towards the door, Steve following.

“Yeah, no.” Tony and Steve stopped walking and turned around. Clint shook his head. “Bad idea. Pepper's too conflicted; even if she doesn't mean to do it, she's going to come across as ambivalent if she does the talking. She could help you find the right media people to talk to, though. Think she'll want to do that? She clearly prefers that Bruce not come back.”

Tony shrugged, not liking the fact that he and Pepper were on different sides of the fence about Bruce. “She'd give me a list. If I asked her to do it, she'd take charge of the PR. She's done other things for me that she hated doing, like, umm... changing out the arc reactor in my chest.” 

Natasha gave him another death glare. “Which is why you shouldn't ask her to do this. Leave her alone. She can be our canary in the mine. If she changes her mind about Bruce, then you'll know the media campaign is working.”

“Clint, just shoot the list to JARVIS, and I'll take care of it without Pepper's help. I'm a genius; I can design a media campaign,” Tony said, with a touch of temper. 

Natasha gave him a level look, and then nodded at him, and he knew she was trusting him to keep his word. 

She stepped close to Steve and caught his hand, squeezed it briefly, then reached over to Tony and gave his earlobe a sharp tug before letting go and walking out the door. Clint went back to the computer station, re-opened a file, and raised it up into the air.

Steve walked briskly to the door and waited for Tony. He opened the door for him and let him pass through first, his manners as much a part of him as his honest face and strong muscles. 

They moved through the hallway and rode the elevator in silence, but it didn't feel awkward to Tony. He and Steve were just occupied with their own thoughts. Tony began designing the code for his quiet foray into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s data banks and then his mind drifted to what Bruce had mentioned in his farewell message, that Tony should look at the sketches Steve had drawn of them.

So after they worked out and Tony saw for himself how Steve could totally demolish the best punching bag his money could buy, he'd ask about Steve's art. 

 

* * *

 

“Sir, Captain Rogers is asking for entrance to your suite,” JAVIS announced.

Tony raised his head from Pepper's lap, and placed his Starktablet on the coffee table. He'd been testing his new spy code before sending it S.H.I.E.L.D.'s way.

“Tell him to come on in. Have you found anything in news reports, police reports, about Bruce?”

Tony sat up on the couch and rubbed his face. Pepper yawned, then gave Tony a kiss, before murmuring that she was going to go to bed and to tell Steve she said goodnight. 

JARVIS answered after Pepper had left the living room. “No, sir. Nothing conclusive. There are, of course, a steady stream of people who have reported seeing the man who changes into the Hulk, but the majority of those accounts occurred before Doctor Banner left this morning.”

“Let me know if he turns up. Hopefully, we can tap into security cameras and get some visual confirmation.”

“Yes, sir.”

Steve walked in, and Tony waved hello. “Pepper says goodnight. Any news?”

Steve sat down next to Tony and handed him a sketch pad. “S.H.I.E.L.D. still has agents stationed in the lobby. Fury hasn't contacted me either. I'm certainly not going to bring it to his attention that Bruce is gone.”

Tony snorted.

Steve continued. “Natasha checked in. She's flying down to Florida, following a Hydra lead. Clint is preparing some red herrings to use if Bruce is sighted, to send people looking for him in a different direction.”

Tony waved a hand at his tablet on the coffee table. “I should be able to send our little spy into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s computers before too long. Still running some tests. I've set it so that any mention by S.H.I.E.L.D. of Bruce or the Hulk or the Avengers gets copied to JARVIS. And so far, there's no police or legitimate private sightings of Bruce, as far as JARVIS has been able to monitor.”

“I have an idea for your media campaign. I thought I'd polish up one of my sketches of Bruce, and let you use it as you think best,” Steve said, a little too casually.

Ah, Steve was concerned about Tony's opinion of his artwork. That was cute, Tony thought, and opened the sketchbook. “Show me, Cap.”

Steve flipped the pages, Tony getting quick glimpses of himself and the rest of the team, before Steve halted at a sketch of Bruce right after he'd joined the party on the viaduct in Manhattan.

Tony studied the picture. “He looks so calm going to face that monster.” Tony remembered that moment when he'd led the leviathan to the team, but being airborne, he hadn't seen the details of the encounter. Not like Steve had observed it, and Christ, Steve was good. He'd really caught Bruce, disheveled, and showing so much fucking courage by walking out and facing down that leviathan. He looked almost serene, in that backward glance, the monster coming straight at him, and filling up the page.

“You've got some major talent, Rogers. It's a cliché, but that whole bit about a picture being worth a thousand words? Well, how can anybody look at this sketch and not feel something positive about Bruce and the Hulk? He's a god-damned hero.”

Steve nodded. “I drew the Hulk, too. Here,” and he turned to the next drawing. “Bruce had just transformed. His shirt is still ripping to tatters as he's throwing himself at the leviathan.”

Tony admired the Hulk's muscles, and smiled at the expression on the Hulk's face. Bruce liked to distance himself from the Hulk, calling him “the other guy” but he could see Bruce within the Hulk's features. Okay, maybe a more direct, less verbal, and really angry and huge Bruce, but... Bruce. “Put them both together, Cap. Let the public see how Big Green fought to save this world.” 

“Well, maybe it will help. I'll leave this with you for tonight. Bruce wanted you to look at some of the other drawings I did of you two together.” Steve smiled at him and stood up.

Tony's finger hovered over the drawing of the Hulk; he looked up at Steve, feeling troubled. “Do you ever wonder where the Hulk comes from?”

“I know it was from science but to me it seems more like a fairy tale, with Bruce being cursed somehow.”

Tony nodded. “His transformations do seem magical. We haven't even begun to touch upon the science involved. Compton Scattering? Dimensional folding? There has to be more than just physics at play. What happened to Bruce to make him so angry that he transformed to this incredible, formidable version of himself when he was blasted with gamma radiation?” 

Steve's expression turned thoughtful. “Bruce told me that he's always angry and that's why he can control changing. But I don't think it was always that way. I think after he stopped trying to get rid of the Hulk was when he learned how to manage his transformations. From what S.H.I.E.L.D. let me read about him, in the earlier years Bruce changed when he was in some kind of danger. His body reacted to pain or fear--”

“Like on the helicarrier. Of course, Loki was helping.”

“Yes. Or in the past his heartbeat would speed up, then the Hulk would come out. To protect him, I think. Maybe Bruce needed protection when he was growing up-”

“And he didn't get it.” Tony pictured a small boy, with big brown eyes and curls galore, scared and mistreated. “I think that Clint knows more about Bruce than we do. Let's talk to him tomorrow.”

“There was something Clint said this afternoon that's been bothering me a lot. He said Bruce traded-”

“Sex for survival.” Tony scowled. “It makes me want to find him and make sure he never has to do things like that _ever_ again. You're such a Boy Scout, Rogers, I'm never sure what kinds of sordid stuff you were exposed to before being thawed out.”

Steve looked evenly at him. “My father drank himself to death and sometimes, when he'd had a snootful, he shoved me and Mama around.”

“Son-of-a-bitch.”

“It was a long time ago. Even to me, it was a long time ago,” Steve said softly.

“My Dad talked about you a lot. He didn't tell me your dad was an alcoholic, though. Probably a little too close to home to mention.”

Steve looked sharply at Tony, but didn't make any comments about Howard Stark's drinking habits. Tony wasn't sure he was grateful for that or not. From what he'd learned, it seemed like his dad had changed a lot from the man Steve had been friends with, back in World War II. 

Steve crossed his arms. “After Mama passed, I went to an orphanage. Some of the other children told me about what had happened to them. Some had families that used to beat on them. Boys and girls were forced to have sex with relatives or they ran away and became prostitutes before they were sent to the Home. We had child abuse during the Depression and the Forties, Tony. Maybe it wasn't talked about or reported as much, but I'm very aware of how much children can be hurt by others.”

“Maybe the Avengers could donate some of the money from the toys to groups who work with abused kids.” Tony stretched his arms, thinking about pre-serum Steve in an orphanage. He'd have been tiny. Probably got his ass kicked on a regular basis for sticking up for what he thought was the right thing. 

“That's a good idea.” Steve smiled at him and Tony felt his mouth curving up in response. Another one of Captain America's superpowers, that smile.

“Pepper handles all of Stark Industries' charities,” Tony said. “I'll talk to her about helping with this.”

Steve rubbed one hand on the back of his neck. “Let's mention it to the others first, after we do what we can for Bruce.”

Tony flashed on Bruce's self-deprecating smile. It was a wonder Bruce didn't stay the Hulk all the time, given all the shitty things that had happened to him.

“God. Bruce. He's a doctor, a biophysicist. He puts the 'G' in genius. He should never have had to give assholes sex so he could survive,” Tony said. 

“I know,” Steve said firmly, his eyes finding Tony's. “And I'm not shocked that Bruce has had to sell his body. I just really hate the thought that he was forced to make those decisions. I want him to be safe as much as you do. You asked me earlier today if I respected Bruce. It's because I do, that I accepted his decision to leave.”

Tony made a plaintive noise and flopped back against the couch. “I know that. I'm just a selfish bastard. I want him here, working with me. It's, it's like seeing an expensive, specialized tool being used to pound rocks. His life is being wasted out there. Bruce is brilliant, he should be treated like a national treasure. I hope this plan to gain him amnesty works, Cap.”

Steve sat back down, half turned on the couch to face him. “Being a doctor must be important to him, too, Tony. I doubt he feels he's wasting his time by treating people who don't have medical care.”

“Not helping, Steve. Hell, if he would come back I'd fund a free clinic for him, if he wanted to keep treating the poor. And confession time: I'm feeling guilty for designing weapons to capture the Hulk. You watched the footage from Culver University, too, didn't you?”

“Yes. It was part of the briefing on Doctor Banner from Director Fury.”

“Those sonic cannons that almost took the Hulk down? I made them. I made Bruce feel pain.” Tony remembered Bruce sitting on the bed in Tony's room, talking to him about it. Bruce hadn't been angry with Tony, though. He should have been.

“Did you know the Hulk was Doctor Banner?” Steve asked.

“Didn't have a clue. Or that the Hulk was even human. I should have investigated more before agreeing to the contract.” 

“You thought he was a monster.”

“Yes.” Tony made a sound of disgust. “Watching the film, I could see the Hulk fighting against the sonic waves, and the cannons were working, he was immobilized – the theory is sound – but then the Hulk gathered strength from somewhere, got up, and escaped. Bruce isn't even mad at me for building those weapons for General Ross.”

“If the Hulk came from within Bruce, then when he's the Hulk Bruce must be within that giant muscular body. That quality you described, the Hulk finding the strength to keep resisting the cannons – that's Bruce.”

“Well, he gave up on _himself_ at one point. I worry about that, too. What if he does figure out a way to outsmart the Hulk and tries again to kill himself? He's been so alone the last six years. Even if he did make some friends, he couldn't really be straight with them about who he really is. He would have left them behind to run again, and start over. Over and over and over. Here, he'd have us to keep him from feeling blue. And turning green.”

Steve did that 'Captain America is with you' thing again with his eyes and his chin. “We're going to achieve this mission, Tony. Don't get disheartened. I told Bruce he became an Avenger when he rode up on that motorcycle and joined us in battle. Maybe knowing we consider him a teammate will help him to hang on.”

Sighing, Tony said, “He didn't sound like he was ever considering coming back, unless we needed him to fight or needed his scientific razzle-dazzle again.”

“And what do you think the odds are that we won't run into something as crazy as Loki and the Chitauri invading us? I think we'll see Bruce again.” Steve smiled at him, and it was something gentle this time, and warm, and reassuring. A Steve Rogers smile, somehow, not a Captain America one.

Steve pushed himself up from the couch. Tony followed his example and walked Steve to the door. Before he stepped into the hallway, Steve paused and grasped Tony's shoulder and gently rocked him a little before letting go. 

“Goodnight, Soldier. I'll pick up my sketchbook in the morning.”

“Soldier? Are you kidding me?”

Steve just grinned at him before leaving.

Tony belatedly remembered Steve calling him that earlier, during their strategy session, and had the unsettling suspicion that he'd just been saddled with a new nickname.

He wondered where Bruce was sleeping tonight, if he even had a roof over his head. 

* * *

Hours later, Pepper was warm and soft beside him in the bed, but sleep still eluded him. This was the time, when he would be so tired, that his failures haunted him. This night, he kept seeing the sonic cannons dragging the Hulk down, and Bruce, shoeless, shirtless, only rags around his groin, walking slowly along a dark road.


	4. Clint Spills the Beans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony cooks, Steve makes coffee, and Clint tells them what wasn't in the S.H.I.E.L.D. file Coulson gave them on Bruce.

Clint whipped an arrow out of his quiver and in a smooth practiced motion sent it flying towards the moving target. He had to give Tony Stark points for doing exactly what he said he would. This practice room was state-of-the-art. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s was shabby in comparison. Of course, most of the other agents didn't use a bow like he did as his primary weapon, so the bow-and-arrow stuff wasn't exactly high on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s priority list for agent training.

When the arrow embedded itself exactly where he'd planned it to land on the eighteen-sided foam target, he allowed himself a small nod of satisfaction. Then he kept his hands and eyes busy emptying his quiver, repeating the same perfection.

This was how he kept himself cool. Nat liked to soak in hot water and do martial arts, Stark tinkered with his robots and suits, Cap demolished punching bags and drew shit, and Thor liked calling the lightning to his hammer and singing drinking songs while quaffing down impressive amounts of beer. That little bar in Puente Antiguo should put up a sign, “Thor Odinson drank here.” Maybe the extra business would offset the cost of rebuilding what Thor and Selvig had busted up in their exuberance. He grinned, remembering the story Selvig had told one night to some of the other scientists on the P.E.G.A.S.U.S. Project about that epic night of drinking.

Not that Selvig had known he was listening. He'd been hidden up high, observing the guy. Something about the man had triggered a sense of caution about him when they'd met. Selving wasn't right, but at the time he hadn't been able to figure out what was wrong with him. Selvig had been leery of him, too. 

In hindsight, it wasn't much of a mystery. Loki'd had his claws into Selvig's brain since the showdown between Thor and Loki in New Mexico. Loki had made the scientist his minion. Not entirely, it turned out, and Clint had to hand it to Selvig for building a back door for control of the tesseract. He'd helped make Loki's defeat possible. 

Clint hadn't been able to do anything comparable to that when he'd been brainwashed by Loki. Although he hadn't taken a head shot to Fury when Loki stole the tesseract. So, maybe in a small way, he'd kept one tiny corner of his mind free. It didn't really change anything.

Compromised. He'd been compromised with a capital C. He was so grateful to Natasha for vouching for his return to sanity so he could help take down that evil son-of-a-bitch. 

S.H.I.E.L.D.'s shrinks had quite a session with him the day after the Avengers had saved the world. He was scheduled to have some followup ones after he returned to active duty. While Banner had been getting his beauty sleep in, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s psych operatives had grilled and debriefed the rest of them. Clint, though, had received special attention. He'd never been chatty with the psych guys before, so he worked hard to stay in character. He'd managed to convey the right amount of regret over the destruction and lives lost that had been his fault. Guilt, sure, but not so much that it was crippling him. He'd been a victim of Loki's manipulations. That was what he told the shrinks, lacing his reluctant words with clenched fists and silences. He didn't trip any of the flags embedded in their questions that indicated he was suicidal or at risk for doing stupid shit like punishing himself, or going off on a drinking bender. In short, he was coping satisfactorily.

He could read people, and he knew the shrinks were buying his act. And it was an act. He wasn't okay with what had happened. Loki had raped his mind. Forced him to turn against his own people. It was going to take some time and effort to put that behind him, he knew. He could function as well as ever, though, and he wasn't going to be sidelined until he was over it. Him and emotional trauma were old buddies.

Bruce had learned to go the meditation route, and from all the reports it did seem to help him gain some peace of mind. Clint didn't think he'd like it. He wanted to be able to keep moving, or if he was still, he wanted to be positioned where he couldn't be surprised and had the advantage of being on high ground. He could never just sit in easy reach of an enemy with his eyes closed, like he'd seen Bruce doing.

Clint was the one who volunteered to climb trees and poles during missions; he knew other agents made jokes about him being in his eyrie when he went high. Actually, he liked that imagery. 

After he'd picked off the entire other team by himself during a training exercise by using the air ducts at a training facility, he was something of a legend to the rookies. Trainers sometimes borrowed him, if he was in-between missions, to shoot harmless arrows at the baby agents during instructional sessions. Those were good times. Clint liked fun. He really did. So when he wasn't in the middle of an operation, he liked to joke and bet and hang out with Nat, if she was around. Or bug Coulson.

And now, he liked this team he'd joined. His knack, the one he was careful not to mention to, well, almost everyone, had vetted all of the Avengers as being good guys. 

Of course, he'd already made that call about Natasha and Bruce and Thor long before Loki tried to enslave the world. It was why he'd brought Natasha into S.H.I.E.L.D. and enlisted Coulson to help free her from the brainwashing she'd been under since she was a little girl. He'd known she could be redeemed, and he'd risked everything to save her.

Bruce, well, he'd been the guy's watcher for all those long weeks in Guatemala. The first time it was his turn to be primary on the Hulk watch, he'd felt that tingle in his brain that told him his knack was curious about the guy who was the Hulk. If he hadn't seen the videos he never would have guessed that the short American with the dark, curly hair was him. The guy just looked harmless, his glasses sliding down his nose whenever he put them on to look at something more closely. A thermometer, for example. 

Clint, in disguise on the ramshackle bus with Bruce, watched him rock a baby to sleep in his arms while the sick and exhausted mother he'd treated with medicine slept as they traveled to a new town. 

He'd probably would have come to the same conclusion without going with his knack, since Bruce really was a good man. Nobody on the observation team wanted to see him hurt. Bruce did manage to engender a fair amount of exasperation among the other agents, though, as the help he gave to people in need often landed himself in hot water. He was fairly good about getting himself back out of it, but he'd made more than one agent curse Bruce's humanitarian impulses. 

When he'd seen Bruce Banner ride up on that motorcycle to join them to fight Loki and the Chitauri, he hadn't been surprised that Bruce would help. He'd been a little amazed at Bruce's appearance, was all, since Natasha had told him the Hulk had jumped out of the helicarrier and they didn't know where he'd landed. At the time, the helicarrier had bigger problems than tracking the Hulk, or Banner, if he'd changed back.

His knack had started to kick in when he'd seen Thor fighting so hard to get to his hammer back in New Mexico. He felt that surge of understanding and he'd said into his mic that Coulson had better call it, because he was starting to root for this guy. He'd known that Coulson would get the message that this one was a thumbs up. Hopefully, then Coulson wouldn't order him to shoot the big blond galoot dead. 

Coulson knew about his little gift. They'd had one very cryptic conversation about it, in which Coulson let him know that he knew Clint was tapping into something a little more than just a gut feeling whenever he gave a thumbs up or thumbs down on someone. Luckily for Clint, Coulson got a huge thumbs up, and Clint trusted him with his life. He certainly was trusting him with his secret. Clint didn't like to think of himself as maybe being tagged with the “M” word. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. knew a lot about people who had manifested some kind of mutant talent. Some of them had banded together for support and tried to use their talents for the good of their communities. Some of them used their talents to become criminals. So far, S.H.I.E.L.D. had worked hard to keep that kind of knowledge from the public. After this week, he suspected that it would be harder to keep a lid on the wacko talents some people had, if they became problems. There was even a special prison that had been nicknamed, “The Vault,” designed to keep those criminal mutants from breaking out. Clint knew it was in the Rockies somewhere. If he hadn't quit fucking up his life he might have ended up there himself. 

Natasha knew too, although they'd never had any awkward conversations about it. He just knew that she knew and accepted his gift as part of the Clint Barton package. 

“Master Barton, I have a message for you from Captain Rogers and Sir.”

JARVIS's voice stopped him from brooding on that unhappy end to freedom, if he hadn't started listening to his knack and letting it guide his choices in life. Loki had said that he had heart, and he guessed maybe the bastard's magical talents had recognized Clint's gift.

“Okay, lay it on me, man. And it's just Clint, okay? I can't really picture myself as being Master Barton.” Clint walked to the foam targets and started retrieving his arrows, looking them over for any damage before placing them back in his quiver.

“I've informed Captain Rogers and Sir that you haven't had breakfast yet, and they would like to know if it's agreeable to you to meet in the Avenger's Kitchen.”

“The one where Steve and Bruce cooked us steaks?” Clint highly doubted that Tony had phrased JARVIS' polite request that way at all. He'd probably said something like, _Tell Barton to get his ass up here; Steve's making coffee._

“Yes, Clint.”

“Tell'em I'm on my way.”

He trotted out the door and decided to jog up the stairs. He might be on stand-down for three weeks, but he couldn't afford to let his training slide.

* * *

 

Tony was scrambling eggs when Clint jogged into the kitchen. Steve actually was making coffee and stopped measuring coffee grounds into the basket of the coffee maker to smile at Clint. 

“I've been trying to talk Tony into getting a percolator like I used to have in my apartment in Brooklyn, but he says nobody uses them anymore. Is that true?” Steve asked, a little skeptically. 

Clint shrugged. “Pretty much, at least in the States, but people use them when they go camping or if the electricity goes off. S.H.I.E.L.D. had one we used on Hulk watch. Bruce would make coffee with grounds tied into a rag. He seemed to like it well enough.” 

Tony turned off the stove. “I suppose that's just another thing Bruce will go back to doing now.” He didn't sound happy about it.

Swiveling to face them, Tony said, “Eggs are done, help yourself. Steve, we live in a world full of technological miracles and that coffee machine is one of them. Hurry up, okay? I'm dying for a cup.” 

Clint noticed that it was a Stark Industries model. “Looks like that one's got a lot of bells and whistles, Tony.”

Steve grinned at Clint, pushing buttons, and the sound of water gurgling through the machine began. “Tony showed me how it works. Coffee will be done soon.”

Tony patted the coffee machine fondly. “I'll be test driving my latest coffee machine pretty soon down here. You guys can be my lab rats. Did I tell you that it can be programmed to play music to tell you when your coffee is ready?” He got down a plate and dished himself up. Grabbing a fork from a drawer, he dropped into a chair and began eating.

Clint filled plates for himself and Steve, joining Tony at the table. Steve murmured thank you to Clint, then slid into his own seat.

The eggs were actually pretty good. Tony had added in green and red peppers, onions and cheese, and he'd made plenty. 

Steve got back up and filled mugs for all of them, and Tony made a contented sound after his first sip.

Clint had finished breakfast quickly and was about to get up to leave when Steve caught his eye.

“Clint, the information in the files S.H.I.E.L.D. gave us on Bruce was minimal. You seem to know a lot more about him, and if you could brief us it would be helpful.”

Tony added, “Yeah. I don't want any surprises being revealed later that we're not prepared to handle for the media campaign. So, c'mon, dish up the dirt on our dear, departed Doctor Banner.”

Steve frowned disapprovingly. “Tony, you make it sound like he's passed away. Are you that angry with him for leaving and not telling you first?”

Clint just sat quietly and watched the Captain America and Iron Man show. Nat had told him that these two had clashed at first, while the team was just beginning to pull together. Right now, Tony had sounded, well, a little bitter, mixed with a liberal sprinkling of hurt and obnoxious. 

“He could have told me,” Tony muttered. “I would have taken him anywhere he wanted to go.” He drank the rest of his coffee, and didn't look at Steve at all.

“He wanted to protect you, Tony. He was worried about you, and he did what he thought was best. But you can take it up with him when he comes back.” Steve moved to the counter and brought back the coffee pot. He filled Tony's mug and his own and looked inquiringly at Clint.

Clint nodded, and within moments his taste buds were in heaven again. Tony bought the good beans, and his coffee was about a hundred times better than the sludge S.H.I.E.L.D. usually offered its agents. He thought there must be a rule that all bureaucratic organizations had to buy the cheap shit. He'd call Coulson this morning and mention his new conspiracy theory. Coulson wouldn't laugh, he never did at Clint's jokes and wild-ass speculations, but Clint knew that the corner of his mouth would turn up and Clint would have been able to read the amusement in his eyes. It had taken him a few weeks to see that look in his handler's expression, but once Clint had cracked the code he could read Coulson like a book. 

Coulson probably needed to hear Clint shovel some bullshit his way, bored and stuck as he was in his hospital bed. It would be like donating to charity. Clint had called him the day they'd all trooped into Tony's tower, and he'd bent Coulson's ear grousing about being kicked out of headquarters. Anticipating his next move, Coulson had made Clint promise not to sneak into the medical ward to visit him. Clint was still miffed about that. 

Steve laid a hand on Tony's shoulder and startled, Tony half-turned to look at Steve.

_”Are_ you angry with Bruce?” Steve asked, sounding genuinely concerned. 

“No! Yes. Maybe? It's complicated,” Tony said, making air quotes around the last word.

“Tony...” Steve said quietly.

“Well,” Tony exploded, “he wouldn't even let me try to help him, and that pisses me off. I'm going to get even with him, though, for dumping me. All those reasons he listed in his heartfelt little video, I'm going to demolish each and every one. And then when it's safe for him to come back and our 'The Hulk is a Good Guy' campaign is working, then I'm going to have a conversation with the good doctor.”

Clint said mildly, “Good luck with that. He's not bad at hiding.”

“I'll find him. And I'll talk him into coming back.” Tony sounded calmer, and Steve let him go and sat back down.

“Clint, what should we know about Bruce? I assume Tony or you can get us the uncensored file S.H.I.E.L.D. has on him, but for now just talk to us,” Steve said.

“And besides the CliffsNotes, cough up anything else you know that's not in the file,” Tony commanded.

“CliffsNotes?” Steve looked mildly puzzled. Poor guy must run into twenty references a day he didn't get.

“JARVIS, care to do the honors?” 

“Of course, Sir. Captain, according to Wikipedia, CliffsNotes are a series of student study guides that present and explain literary and other works in pamphlet form or online.”

“Okay, now that Cap's had his vocabulary lesson for the day, spill the beans, Clint,” Tony ordered. “JARVIS, audio record and transcribe this and send it to my Hulk media campaign folder, file 'Green Kimble.' Steve, just consider the name 'Kimble' to be a synonym for fugitive.”

Clint walked over to the coffee machine and refilled his mug, then glanced at Steve and Tony sitting at the table, lifting the coffee pot to ask if they wanted any more, too. They didn't, and Clint looked thoughtfully at them, organizing his thoughts on Bruce. He rejoined the other two at the table. 

“Okay.” He took a hefty swig and swallowed. “Let's start with how Bruce handles being on the run. He knows how to live cheap, barters with people for food and shelter, clothes. If he's going to be somewhere more than a few days, he'll identify a key person in that community and let them know he's a doctor and is willing to see people for what they can spare, or for free, if they can't. He gets his patients mostly from doing that, but he'll offer his services on his own, too, depending on the circumstances.” 

Sipping at his coffee for a moment, he remembered Bruce seeing patients in the evening after he would come home from whatever day job he was working, or during the day if he worked an evening or overnight shift. 

Tony asked, sounding baffled, “Why does he call attention to himself that way? People would remember a guy who moonlights as a doctor.”

Shaking his head, because, damn, he'd wondered that same thing himself when he was on Hulk watch, Clint said, “Well, he doesn't do it all the time. And he didn't see patients at his own place, as far as we know.”

“What? He was trying not to leave a bread crumb trail to his hideout?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, something like that. He'd see patients in a makeshift clinic somewhere and did home visits. It's important to him, so much so that he's willing to take the risk. He's not motivated to work as a doctor by the need to make a living. It goes a lot deeper than that for him.”

Steve said, “I thought he was working a factory job at a bottling plant when Ross caught up to him in Rocinha.”

Clint chuckled sourly. “He was. He'll work any job that needs doing; he's not afraid to get his hands dirty.”

Nodding decisively, Tony said, “I'm so dragging him into my workshop and making him show me what he's got.”

Clint said, “The manager of that bottling factory? He couldn't say enough good things about how Bruce would keep the machinery from going belly up. Word gets around if he stays put for a while that he can coax dead gadgets back to life. Word gets around like that when he's doctoring folks, too.”

Steve said, “He really wouldn't make a very good spy, would he? It seems like people get to know him wherever he ends up.” 

Clint laughed. “Nah, he's not really an undercover guy. He's not very good about acting stupid, so he'll end up getting promoted fast, or sometimes getting lectured about how he's wasting his talents. Sometimes other workers end up resenting him because of shining like that and they'll take it upon themselves to teach him a lesson. Sometimes that's triggered a transformation. More in the early years than more recent ones. Over time, for the most part, Bruce has learned how to save his own ass without turning green. Cap knows this but I'm not sure about you, Tony. Did you know Bruce has taken some martial arts classes?”

Tony shook his head.

“He's just a beginner, but it's helped him skedaddle out of some tight spots. He also learned how to control his breathing, calm his heartbeat. His Akido instructor in Brazil talked to Coulson after he was convinced that S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't going to hunt Bruce down to kill him.”

Steve said, “Kill him?”

“There was a lot of rumors floating around the favela after Ross' extraction team went after Bruce there. His instructor really liked him. Bruce diagnosed his kid correctly after some clinic bungled her care. Saved her life. She had meningitis, not the flu.”

Clint looked first at Steve, and then at Tony. “So. Way you guys looked yesterday you didn't know Bruce had to peddle his ass sometimes.”

Tony crossed his arms. “No. Fury left that out of the files Coulson gave us.”

Clint stared at his coffee cup. Well. Bruce had owned what he'd had to do when he stood up to Fury. He'd understand why Clint had to give up the details. “We know he agreed to sex sometimes in return for being smuggled out of the area, when Ross' team got too close. Or for clothes, food, money. That happened when he transformed and come back to himself naked and lost somewhere. Fuckers liked to brag about it. Sometimes Bruce wrote about it, but, not like the therapists want you to do. It was more like footnotes in his research.”

“God,” Tony said. “He talk to anybody about it?”

“Not that we know about,”Clint said with a shrug. “He's not afraid to touch people or even kiss them, but he shies away from getting naked and having sex. From a notebook Ross nabbed from a dive Bruce was staying in, we learned he'd been experimenting with his heart rate. Apparently two hundred beats a minute brings the Hulk roaring to life. Whenever he tried to have sex and his heart would speed up, he'd stop. In his notes, he'd written about anxiety being tied in with his heartbeat increasing so much, so it's possible there were some after effects of those deals with those assholes. But he never changed into the Hulk with those men. One of his footnotes said he didn't care about them, so he didn't enter the arousal stage of sex and his heart beat stayed normal.”

Clint glanced at Tony. “Do you think if this became public that it would hurt Banner's acceptance even more? Or would it make people sympathetic to him, to learn how desperate he was at times?” 

Tony bit his lip. “Would Bruce care if it became public? You know, I've thought about that conversation Fury and Bruce had during our last meeting, and now it makes sense to me. At the time, I was texting Pepper and I thought I'd just misheard them.”

Clint said, “I've got pretty good recall. Fury said that Bruce had sold himself before and Bruce answered him that he wasn't as desperate now as he was then. I don't know how much it would tear him up if it became public. You'd better be prepared to spin it in his favor, though, because if Ross leaked that news, he'd say that Banner had been a prostitute. And Ross does know all about it. This happened when Ross was in charge of tracking down Bruce and taking him into custody.”

Steve said, “If it's leaked, as a team we'll express our outrage that Bruce was ever hounded like he was, so that he fell victim to unscrupulous men in order to stay free.”

Tony said, “The Hulk comes out when Bruce is under severe duress, when he's being attacked, unless he changes on purpose. As far as I could make out with the information S.H.I.E.L.D. gave me, most of the times where Bruce changed to the Hulk were because he was attacked by Ross' units.”

“Somebody always attacked him in the other incidents, too,” Clint said. “Various assholes. The Hulk is all about survival, and if Bruce is backed into a corner and being seriously hurt --- cause he can take it up to a point – the big guy comes out to stomp those assholes like a little kid's big, tough brother kicks a bully's ass. Bruce had gained even more control by the time Natasha scooped him up in Kolkata. The Hulk hadn't been seen for over a year. Damn Loki anyway, for taking that away from Bruce.” 

Tony sat up straighter in his chair, looking suspicious. “So why did Ross have such a hard-on for Banner following the gamma accident?” 

Clint opened his mouth to explain, but Tony kept on talking, making a face like he'd just caught a whiff of dog shit on his shoe. “I know the man, a little, in a professional way,” Tony explained. “That was why Coulson sent me to talk to him about recruiting Blonski for the Avengers. I'm glad Ross shot me down. The Abomination would make an awful addition to the team. And before my fun vacation in Afghanistan, I supplied weapons to Ross, some of them special orders, like the sonic cannons to take down the Hulk. Old Thunderbolt Ross is a persistent, sour, stubborn son-of-a-bitch. He's one of the Army's golden boys, and he's got pull like you wouldn't believe.”

“I don't understand.” Steve said.

“What, Cap?” Clint asked.

Steve frowned. “It was an accident in his lab that changed Bruce. Why wasn't help extended to him, instead of Bruce being hunted down like a rabid dog?”

Tony said, rapid-fire, “You know, the way Ross's gone after Bruce, it really does feels personal. Like he's Captain Ahab and Bruce is the one who keeps getting away.” He snapped his fingers three times in a row. “Captain America just asked a very good question, Legolas. General Ross was overseeing the work Bruce and his team were doing, after all. Why did Ross go after him, instead of helping him?” 

Clint rolled his eyes, and figured he'd better jump in and answer before Tony started yakking again. “Guess you didn't know. General Ross has a daughter. A very intelligent, very beautiful daughter. I'll give you three chances to figure out who she was sleeping with for years. It's the same guy she was working with to develop the gamma proof serum for the Army. Here's a hint: it was the head of the team, a brilliant scientist who is the world's foremost expert in gamma radiation – are you catching on yet, Tony?”

Steve said, “So it is personal. The honorable thing to do would have been to step down, let someone else handle the Hulk since Bruce was dating his daughter.”

Clint nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. “It's more involved than that. Tony, you know that Ross was in charge of the project his daughter and Bruce were working on, but do you know about what the research was based on? Because Ross fucked all of them over.”

“Yeah, Ross screwed them,” Tony said flatly. “Doctored the records, too. Bruce wasn't trying to make himself into another super soldier like Cap.”

Steve started. “He wasn't? Coulson said he was.”

Clint said, “Well, to be fair to Coulson, that's the intel S.H.I.E.L.D. was given from the Army records.” 

“Fucking Ross.” Tony looked like he wanted to spit on the ground. “Nah, Cap. Bruce wasn't being an egomaniac or wanting to be your clone. Bruce thought the project was to develop a serum that would keep gamma radiation weapons from harming soldiers. Uh, civilians, too. Ross didn't tell Bruce and the team that the serum was derived from Erskine's super-soldier serum.”

“Bruce said something to Nat on the flight from Kolkata and it didn't match up with what S.H.I.E.L.D. had on that whole mess,” Clint said. “She had it looked into and looky-looky, guess who was being crooky.”

Tony said, “Ross wasn't that interested in developing a way to protect soldiers from gamma weapons. He saw the potential for a different outcome. He wanted to make people into weapons. He put a lot of pressure on the research team to come up with something because the program was going to be shut down unless they got enough results. So, yeah, Bruce jumped ahead instead of running a lot more trials. The whole team gave the experiment a thumbs up, though. And I'd bet anything that Ross authorized Bruce to do that experiment and then covered his ass and made Bruce out to have gone rogue, against Ross' orders.”

Clint said, “Betty Ross was hurt pretty badly in the lab accident, and two other scientists on the team died from injuries caused by the Hulk tearing the place up. General Ross was also hurt, but not as severely.”

“Ooohhh, personal grudge and resentment because Bruce was sleeping with his daughter. Nice combination for a nutcase like Ross to obsess about,” Tony said.

“You got it,” Clint said. “Ever since then, he's been after Banner. Our sources tell us that he never liked him, didn't think he was good enough for his daughter.”

Steve said, frowning, “Not good enough?” 

“Ross is such an ass. Bruce is a real catch,” Tony threw in. Then he shrugged. “Or, you know, he was, before the whole gamma thing happened. But if I wasn't in a committed relationship I'd go for him. I'd smooch that wariness of his right off his face. With those lips, I bet he's a great kisser, right, Cap?”

Clint mouthed to himself, “Right, Cap?” and watched color bloom on Steve's cheeks.

“Tony.” Steve said, and right then he didn't look like Captain America at all. Just a young, good-looking blond guy, kind of flustered and a little shy. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Oh, I'm sorry. Were we keeping it a secret that you and Bruce played kissy-face?”

Steve's posture straightened and there it was. Captain America was back in the room. “There's a difference between wanting something to be private and keeping it secret because of being ashamed. I'm not ashamed about kissing Bruce.”

“Okay, good to know,” Clint said, rolling his own eyes.

Steve continued, the blush starting to fade. “I saw him sitting on the steps of the Met, hugging his knees, and I realized he was going to leave. I like him. I wanted a kiss to remember him by. And he asked me to kiss him the second time. So what is it you guys say these days? Something about court?”

Clint said, “So sue me.”

Steve nodded. “That's it. So, Tony. Sue me.”

Clint said, laughing a little. “He's just jealous, Steve, that you got there first with Doctor Banner.”

Tony said, “Do you two have a hearing problem? Committed relationship. As in with a smart, sexy redhead. Not jealous.”

Clint said, “Ya know, I don't think Steve has one, but I do.”

“You do what?” Tony asked.

“Have a hearing problem. I use a hearing aid in one ear when I'm on a mission.”

“You don't wear it all the time?” Steve, no, Captain America asked. He looked like he was filing that information away under Barton, Clinton Francis, codename Hawkeye. Avenger.

“Most of the time I can hear well enough with my good ear, unless I've got a bad cold or something, so I don't need it.”

“Let me see your hearing aid sometime. I'll see if I can design a better one,” Tony said. 

“Sure.” It worked okay, but if Stark wanted to turn his genius loose on fiddling with it, then Clint was fine with that.

“So, were you born with a bad ear, or what?” Tony said, curiosity in his voice and on his face.

Steve opened his mouth, and then shut it. Clint guessed he was giving up on trying to rein Tony in. Clint would share with the class, though. He didn't give a shit about keeping it to himself.

“Nah. S.H.I.E.L.D. mission. Big boom.” 

“Surgery not an option?” Tony asked.

“Nope.”

Steve said, “What else should we know about General Ross?”

Clint stretched his arms out and cracked his knuckles. “Well, he has a dislike of scientists, which didn't help endear Bruce to him. He wanted Betty to marry a soldier and kept introducing her to some of the men in his command. General Ross and Betty became estranged after the accident. They still are. Ross blames Banner for that, too. She blames her father for making Bruce a hunted fugitive. She's not shy about stating her opinion, either.” 

Clint was tired of sitting down and resettled himself by the counter, grabbing apples from a pretty blue pottery bowl. He started juggling them, five at a time. Coulson would have looked at his watch pointedly, and then held up two of his fingers. When his two minutes were up, he'd have looked at Clint and Clint would have dropped the apples back into the bowl, saving one to eat as the meeting went on.

Tony just grinned. “Hey, can you do more apples? How about knives? Ever juggle them? What about fire sticks? Where'd you learn to juggle?”

“Grew up in the circus. Learned lots of shit there. Sure, I can juggle knives and fire.”

“Cool. Here, I'll get out the knives.” Stark was totally the enabling type, but Cap reached out and kept Tony from getting up. 

“Clint, I'm sure you can put on an impressive show, and I'll want to watch sometime, to see how your talents might help us in a battle – or for some good publicity. You could juggle for kids in a hospital, for example. But now's not the time. So take another minute to finish juggling to get it out of your system and let's get back to trying to help Doctor Banner.”

Coulson and Steve were going to get along great, Clint thought. 

“Okay, Cap. It's just that if I'm not on a mission, I don't like staying put in one place too long with nothing to do with my hands.” 

He dropped the apples back in the bowl, except for one he lobbed at Tony and the one he kept to eat. He hoisted himself up on the counter and sat cross-legged. He liked being up high. He didn't know why. For as long as he could remember, he'd always preferred it that way.

“Obviously Bruce is good at crossing borders in North and South America. How did he get to Sierra Leone? And to Kolkata?” Steve asked, sending Clint a “time to get back with the program” look.

“He used a fake ID and passport to join a charity medical ship that was in Guatemala. Their next port of call was Freetown in Sierra Leone. Bruce jumped ship there when the charity sailed to the next place. He stayed around Freetown and ended up helping a research group trying to cure Lassa Fever. He used to send them patients. We had one of our agents join the group, and when Bruce started getting itchy feet, he offered him a plane ride to Kolkata and to keep being sort of their agent in the field. They'd take the patients he sent to their clinic, give them more extensive medical care. He did some good work on the research, apparently. Then Fury sent Natasha to bring him in.” 

Tony said, “He can still work on curing Lassa Fever when he comes back. Well, if he wants to. I can add that research group to my charities list.”

“That's all information that shows Bruce in a positive way, helping sick people. That's helpful. What about things that might be seen as shady?” Steve asked, a small furrow showing on his forehead.

“You know, there's not really much, other than turning into the Hulk and damaging a shitload of property. And the deaths. That'll be tough to get past. Shady stuff, hmm. He's pretty decent at hacking, although probably not as good as Stark,” Clint said. 

Tony bowed his head a little, acknowledging the accolade. 

“He's used a lot of fake IDs and he falsified a ton of job applications. Can't see anybody really caring about that.” Clint took a bite of his apple.

“Bruce is brilliant,” Tony said, and rocked back on his chair so that it was only on two legs, then let it down again. Clint wasn't the only one in that room who could get fidgety after a while. 

“Mostly,” Clint agreed, “But he doesn't pick up languages very easily. He's better in Spanish than Portuguese, or Krio, Hindi, or Bengali. He tries, though. I've heard him practicing.”

Clint added, “He's good with his hands. He was always fixing stuff for people, their washing machines, sewing machines, vehicles, even worked at a monastery as a handyman. Ross found two or three computers he'd built and used to track stuff like Ross' plans, or information to make false IDs. Also he researched the hell out of possible cures. That was what he was doing in Brazil, researching plants from the rainforest. He was corresponding with Sterns, and they were working on an inhibitor. They got partway with it. You know, don't you, that what Sterns synthesized did reverse the metamorphosis, right?”

Tony and Steve both nodded. 

“Too bad for Bruce that it's only a temporary fix. His fight with Blonski showed that. Ah, other stuff that would be considered scandalous...” Clint chuckled.

“He took hallucinogens in an experiment when he was getting his M.D. and Ph.D at Harvard. It's how he met Betty Ross. General Ross has groused about that, too, that Banner seduced his daughter into joining that experiment. Like Bruce was Timothy Leary and Betty was his groupie. It's not true, not even a little bit. They each signed up before they met.”

Steve's eyes had widened, and Tony was looking intrigued. Clint grinned at them. He thought this story was hilarious.

“Bruce got picked up by the cops one night babbling about gamma radiation after he'd been dosed. The experimenters thought he'd come down from tripping and they let him go home. He hadn't; he'd just hidden that he was still hallucinating.”

Tony started snickering. “I can't wait to rib him about this.”

Clint chuckled again. “He gets kind of sheepish, when people bring it up now. “ 

Tony, his eyes lit up with amusement, said, “So what happened? Bruce go to the Pokey?”

Clint said, “Apparently Bruce was meandering around Harvard Square and thought he could actually see gamma ray bursts with his own eyesight, which you can't, and he was overcome with the beauty of it all. He kept telling anybody within listening range about it. When the cops found out he was part of an experiment, they hauled him back to the guy running it, and gave him an earful for letting his doped up subject wander around high as a kite. He didn't go to jail. Bruce got a disturbing the peace citation out of it, but the judge dropped it.”

“Why did Bruce sign up for that?” Steve asked.

“Money. Bruce got scholarships and financial aid, but basically he was putting himself through school and he was always broke. And I should make sure you know about his family. That's bound to come up, if anybody really wants to get dirt on him. Not that any of it was his fault, but some people will probably pull the genetics card about it.”

Clint noticed how Tony's body language had shifted; he was tense, poised to react. Maybe most people wouldn't have noticed, because Tony's facial expression still radiated only a mildly interested look, but Clint had been a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent for a long time and noticing things like that was second nature to him. And then there was the way he'd grown up. It had left him... well. It just had. 

Tony had a trigger about family history, then. Knowing what he did about Tony's family, he didn't blame the guy. Still, unless there was shit that was pretty deeply buried, Tony's father hadn't been near the monster that Clint's dad or Bruce's dad had been. As far as he knew, Tony had never been physically abused by his father. He hadn't met Tony's emotional needs as a child, but he'd never deprived him of food, or medical care, that Clint knew about, anyway. Sometimes families kept those things secret, and even the kids who'd been treated poorly would stay quiet about it.

He never got into “my dad was worse than your dad” one-ups with people. No point. Everybody's experience was unique, and if they were fucked up by it, then they were fucked up by it. God, he and Natasha had gotten really drunk together a couple of times and talked about their childhoods. Well, he talked. She alluded. But they were both survivors, and so was Bruce Banner.

“What about Bruce's family?” Steve asked, and Clint stopped letting his thoughts meander.

“Okay, here we go. Brian Banner, Bruce's dad, was an alcoholic and a mean son-of-a-bitch. I don't know if Bruce became a physicist because his dad was one or not. I'm pretty sure Bruce became a doctor because of his mother.'

“His mother?” Steve asked.

“I'll explain that in a bit. Brian Banner was convinced that his genius was misunderstood and he didn't get along with his co-workers. He took his frustrations out on his wife, Rebecca, and later, Bruce. He thought that he'd been damaged by radiation from the research projects he'd worked on and that when Bruce was born his son was a mutant. I guess we can be grateful that he didn't shake the hell out of Bruce when he was a baby and give him brain damage.”

Steve and Tony were staring at him, and Clint remembered from reading a Captain America biography Coulson had in his office that Steve's father had also been an alcoholic. Wow. Looked like Thor was going to end up as the one with the least damaging childhood, and how bent was that? Odin as dad of the year. Century. Millennium. Whatever. 

Clint took a deep breath. “The autopsy on Rebecca Banner showed a long history of injuries, fractures. There weren't any records of her being treated at any hospital or at a doctor's office for the injuries that her husband had given her.”

You could have heard a pin drop in that kitchen, Clint thought. He guessed all of this was news to them, that Fury hadn't included any of Bruce's family history in the abbreviated file he'd sent to Tony and Steve.

“Yeah. Brian Banner murdered his wife in front of his son. She finally had enough of his drunken beating on her and Bruce. From what they got out of Bruce, his mom was leaving the asshole, taking him with her. His dad beat his mom to death. Stopped her from driving away in the car. Cracked her head on the driveway, then dragged her into the garage.”

Tony was trying to bore a hole through Clint with his eyes. Steve nodded at Clint to go on. So he did, feeling again the empathy towards Bruce that he'd felt the first time he'd been briefed on Bruce Banner's background. 

“A lot of this was pieced together later by the cops and counselors, but they think she finally decided to get out because of what he was doing to Bruce. See, he'd slap her around and when she'd be down on the floor, he'd grab Bruce and make him hold onto a hammer or a heavy skillet and tell him to hit his mom. He'd call him all kinds of names – monster, freak, mutant – when he wouldn't do it, and then he'd beat the snot out the poor kid. He was sober enough to make sure to do it where any marks would be covered up by Bruce's clothes. Of course, sometimes the poor kid would get bruised on his face or arms anyway when his dad would throw him against the furniture. Told Bruce's teacher that his kid was just clumsy when the teacher called to ask about the bruising. Probably the school would have figured it out eventually. His teacher reported the bruises to the principal and they'd started keeping documentation.”

Steve asked, ”Didn't they talk to Bruce about what was happening?”

Clint nodded. “They asked.”

Steve said, sighing, “But Bruce didn't admit he was being hurt, right? Kids at my orphanage often didn't either.”

Clint swallowed down another bite of his apple and said, “Nah. He wouldn't rat his dad out.”

“So he lied about it,” Tony sighed, too.

“Learned that from his mother probably, since she never called the cops on Brian Banner. Hell, he was only six when his mom died.”

“His mother did try to escape, though.” Tony was staring at his hands.

“She did. The last straw for Rebecca apparently was when Bruce started fighting back against his dad. He'd go into a rage and try to hit his dad when his dad started hurting his mom or would go after Bruce. His dad thought it was great. He thought it showed Bruce was learning to act like him, and not like a mutant. He was still proud of Bruce fighting him, the bastard, when the cops arrested him.”

“So he tried to make Bruce be like him, violent, and make him his ally in hurting Rebecca. What a prince.” Tony glanced up at the cupboards and tightened his lips together.

Nodding, Clint said, “Didn't stop him from beating the kid, though.”

Clint dropped his eyes down to his hands for a moment. He didn't like talking about this; his own memories of his father smacking the hell out of him and his brother were clamoring for his attention. He shook his head, shoving those memories back down. 

“After his dad killed his mom, Bruce attacked him. Just went wild. You can imagine how well that ended. Brian gave his son a mild concussion, a lot of bruises, and a spiral fracture of his left arm. When his dad passed out, Bruce called 911. When the cops and ambulance arrived, they found Bruce sitting with his mom in the garage. She was covered in band-aids and he'd put an ice pack on her head. She'd died hours ago, but Bruce did what he'd always done for his mom after the beatings were over. He played doctor for her.”

“Jesus,” Tony said. “I need a drink.” He cringed as soon as he said it. “God, even I know that was a shitty thing to say. My God, Bruce. Steve and I wondered what had happened for the Hulk to have been born when Bruce was exposed to all that gamma radiation; we suspected maybe he'd been abused, but this is just... no wonder.”

Steve just looked sad. “Did he go to an orphanage, afterward?”

Clint shook his head. “He went into foster care until his mom's sister took him and raised him. He acted out for a while, had bad temper tantrums. He rarely hit other people, mostly he tore stuff up, and yelled a lot. He used to run away, too. He had counseling and by the time he was nine or so, he'd settled down. From all the school reports and interviews with his aunt and cousin, he turned out to be a nice kid, helpful but guarded.”

“Did he have friends? I had Bucky and we helped each other. Did Bruce have anybody like that?” Steve asked, his eyes looking faraway for that moment.

Clint made a so-so gesture with his hand. “Well, adults tended to like him. Other kids, that was a mixed bag. He had some run-ins with bullying types – he skipped a couple of grades, so he was a lot younger and smaller than the other kids in his classes. He was liked by a fair number of kids, but he rarely let himself be friends with them. I don't think he had anybody like your friend, Steve.”

Steve said, “I was the same age as the kids in my class, but I was always the littlest boy of the bunch. Bucky helped me out of a few jams.” He nudged Tony. “You skipped grades, right?”

Tony nodded, but didn't offer to share if he'd been bullied. He'd started college when he was still a little dude, Clint knew. There was no way that he hadn't been up close and personal with guys who resented his intelligence and his money. Also, Tony's mouth had gotten him into trouble as an adult on a regular basis, so it was a pretty good bet that he'd said things that riled up other kids to the point of wanting to take a swing at him. 

On the other hand, when Tony turned on the charm it was hard to not fall under his spell. He'd probably talked his way out of trouble as much as he'd talked himself into it. Clint had seen the news conference when Tony had come back from Afghanistan. He'd had the entire room of reporters sitting on the floor because he'd sat down on the dais and asked them to join him. He'd been so likeable, so sincere, and had caused an uproar when he said Stark Industries was now out of the weapons business.

Tony grinned. “Rhodey had my back when I was at M.I.T. Still does. But Bruce, he never had a best friend like that?”

Clint said, “Not really. Not as a kid. He was closest to Betty, and they were lovers for a long time, but they didn't meet until they were at Harvard. They went back and forth about getting married for years.”

Clint stretched, going from cross-legged to extending his legs, and then letting them hang over the edge of the counter. Apparently that gave Tony the green light to get up; he stretched, then deposited his apple core into the trash. He ended up facing Clint, but Steve stayed at the table. 

Steve said, “Bruce made strong connections with all of us, the few days he was here. It's hard to believe that he didn't have more good friends, at least before the accident with the gamma machine.”

Clint shrugged. “Nah, even as an adult, his circle of friends was small. His younger cousin, and a kid, uh Rick something, who'd attached himself to Bruce after Bruce had saved his life. But, he was good friends with a guy who runs a pizza place in Willowdale, Virginia, the town where Culver University is located. Those were the people he was closest to, before the accident. Just like when he was a kid, there were a lot of other people who liked him and would consider him a friend, too, of sorts. A friend who'd help you in a heartbeat, but kind of shied away from sharing personal stuff or hanging out together much.”

“The genetics card... you think people will say Bruce, the Hulk, is evil, bad, because he inherited it from his father?” Steve stood up and folded his arms over his chest. He looked determined.

“Some will. Tony, you know they will, so this is something you need to have a really good response to. You'd better cite research or something that shows that most kids who are abused don't become abusers themselves,” Clint said. 

“Will do. Is Bruce a good doctor?” Tony said, looking grim. He kept glancing at a high cupboard where Clint knew he kept alcohol. 

“Yeah, he is. He's a great diagnostician. He's never had his own practice, but after he got his license, he put in his time wherever he lived. He worked as a sub for Culver's Student Health Clinic and had a regular shift about twice a month. He also subbed at Willowdale hospital's ER and for a medical practice, if the regular docs were sick or out-of-town.”

Tony glanced _again_ at where the liquor was kept in the kitchen and Clint scowled at him. “So Tony, I see you eyeballing the booze cupboard. Isn't it a little early to start drinking for the day?” Clint asked, and yeah, he was getting peeved that after hearing how Bruce's dad beat his family when he was drunk, that Tony thought now was a good time to get into the Scotch.

Tony shook his head. “Actually, I'm fighting an impulse to empty it all down the drain.” He got up and stood next to Steve, and Clint noticed how their shoulders were touching.

Tony sighed. “I think I've got enough information about Bruce now. I'll keep you guys in the loop about the campaign – ah, should we have weekly meetings? Pizza night or something, talk to each other about what we're doing? Not just about Bruce, but you know, Avengers stuff.”

“Sounds good,” said Clint. “We'll do movies after we eat. I'm making it my mission in life to introduce Steve to all the classics.”

Steve smiled wryly. “I'm not sure if I'd call _Santa Claus Conquers the Martians_ a classic, Clint. It was terrible.” 

“Yeah, but it was terrible in a classic way. It's been named as one of the worst films ever. It's even on the bottom 100 movie list. That kind of stupidity deserves a spotlight. Besides, you had fun throwing popcorn at the screen, too, just like me and Nat.” Clint grinned, and started running movie titles in his head for the next time he could drag Steve to the great little home theater room Tony had installed. Maybe _Ice Pirates_ or _Clash of the Titans_. 

Steve said firmly, “We'll take turns picking the movie. I can already tell that if we let you pick them all the time that I'll never see a decent film again.” 

He added thoughtfully, “Tony, what if we contacted Betty Ross, asked her if she'd help us? Maybe she'd agree to be interviewed?”

Tony nodded and stepped toward the door, pausing there. “Why don't you call her, Steve. I suspect that my time as her father's weapons supplier isn't going to make her feel like talking to me. I realized she's E. Ross, brilliant in her field of cellular biology; she co-authored papers with Bruce, and I was impressed when I read them. Ross is a common name, and I didn't connect her with General Thaddeus Ross. Maybe you could talk to the other people at Willowdale who knew Bruce, too. I could arrange for some camera work, and we could show it to the public when the time is right.”

“I think I'll motorcycle down to Virginia, talk to her in person,” Steve said, and he grabbed one of the apples in the bowl. 

“Road trip. Cool. You said you wanted to travel around the country on your bike. Two birds with one stone this way.” Clint jumped down from the counter. “Meeting adjourned, Cap?”

“I think so. Tony?” Steve glanced at him. 

“Yeah. We're done. Let's make Thursdays Avengers meeting and movie night. I'll pick the next movie. It'll be a surprise.” Tony ducked out of the kitchen and Steve finished the apple in three bites and started filling the sink with hot water.

Clint left him being responsible about kitchen cleanup and went to his quarters. He wanted to call his handler. He thought Coulson would like to know what the team was doing about Bruce. And probably Coulson missed talking with Clint. He was a little surprised to realize just how much _he_ missed seeing and talking with Phil Coulson.


	5. Steve Takes a Road Trip

“Captain, Sir has directed me to route all communication from S.H.I.E.L.D. to you, and Assistant Director Hill requests that you admit her to the Avengers' quarters. She's most insistent,” JARVIS informed him.

Steve grinned to himself. Tony had found the silver lining to Steve being their team captain. _”You talk to 'em first, Cap. Screen out the bullshit. More time for me to be in the lab that way”._

Steve stuffed another shirt into his duffel bag and fastened it. “Tell her I'll meet with her shortly. Could someone escort her to the hospitality visitor room, the one that's on the floor by our private elevators? She might like a cup of coffee.” 

“Certainly, Captain Rogers.”

He walked over to the dresser and snatched his motorcycle keys from a small ceramic dish on the top of the elegant wood. Tony had made this room comfortable and unlike S.H.I.E.L.D., didn't think his furnishings had to be WWII retro.

He hadn't decided if he wanted to stay here all the time, or if he should get his own apartment, maybe back in Brooklyn. He'd always paid his own way, and while he understood Tony's argument that it only made sense for the Avengers to be where they could respond rapidly to a crisis, he felt uncomfortable with just letting Tony pay for everything. 

It wasn't like he could afford to pay rent in Stark Tower, though. Well, for now it was fine to stay here for the rest of their mandatory downtime, so after his trip to Willowdale he'd bunk here again.

He hoisted the genuine WWII grayish-green duffel bag over his shoulder. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had placed it in his room before he'd woken up from the ice, part of the doomed plan to make him think he was still in his own time. He wondered where S.H.I.E.L.D. had dug it up from. Maybe from some warehouse filled with leftover Army supplies, or, he guessed, they could have bought it on Ebay. 

Clint had explained how people sold things on the Internet; he'd shown him some of the Captain America memorabilia that people were bidding for on Ebay. It was ridiculous how much some items were going for; apparently prices had skyrocketed since the public knew he was still alive.

He turned out the lights, locked the door. It had been more than forty-eight hours since he and Bruce had parted ways at the Met, and he figured he knew why Maria Hill was here in person. He had no intention of trying to deceive her. 

 

* * *

“Captain.” Maria Hill was a lovely woman, tall and dark-haired with striking good looks, but the way she assessed people with her no-nonsense approach was what Steve had always noticed most about her. He thought Peggy would have admired her. She had declined to sit down on the comfortable couch or take any refreshments. 

He moved from the doorway into the spacious room and nodded his head toward her. “Assistant Director Hill, what can I do for you?” He sounded brisk to his own ears and apparently Hill thought so, too, judging from the way she narrowed her eyes at him. 

She pointed at his duffel. “Going somewhere, Captain Rogers?”

“Yes. A little road trip on my motorcycle. I wanted to see some of the country, and I have an errand to do as well.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Report your route and destination, in case we should need you, or at least, need to talk to you. You'll take your cellphone with you.”

She'd phrased that as an order, not a question. Yes, Peggy would have liked this woman. It occurred to him that maybe they'd met. Peggy had worked in this agency's earlier incarnation. Perhaps she'd met a young Maria Hill, possibly even trained her. He resolved to ask Assistant Director Hill sometime if she'd ever met Peggy Carter. But not now. 

He looked at his watch; he should have already left. “I'm going to Willowdale, Virginia I'll be on backroads as much as possible that parallel Interstates 78 and 81, and then I'll be traveling on the Blue Ridge Parkway.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Are you taking Banner to visit his home town, Captain? If so, he's going to need a new backpack since his old one currently happens to be buried under a lot of garbage at a transfer station. Granted, it wasn't in the best of shape so pitching it into the trash was a reasonable disposition for it, but I need to have a visual confirmation that Doctor Banner is still within Stark Tower.” Hill had crossed her arms and looked impatiently at him. He supposed she had better things to do with her time than being here, after all.

“That won't be possible, Assistant Director Hill. Bruce is--”

“I don't care if he's still sleeping off changing into the Hulk, or if he's being held hostage in Stark's workshop, handing him wrenches,” she snapped. “I want to see Doctor Banner and I want to see him now.”

“Wait. How do you know Bruce's backpack was thrown out?”

She frowned at him. “Are you kidding me? We tagged it with a sensor so we could track Banner. My theory is that he guessed we did that and threw it out. It did divert us for a little while.” She stepped closer to him. “I want to see Doctor Banner right now, Captain America.”

He didn't budge. “Sorry. He left two days ago, and he didn't leave behind a forwarding address. He did leave us a message, and he authorized us to pass it along to S.H.I.E.L.D. It's not very long, would you like to see it? And then, I'm afraid I'll need to be going.”

Hill nodded curtly, and Steve asked JARVIS to play Bruce's farewell video. 

When it was over, the image of Bruce meditating frozen in the air where JARVIS had projected it, Hill called Fury.

She succinctly relayed the news that Banner was gone and then handed the phone to him. 

“Captain America,” Fury said in a tone of voice that reminded him of a few truly cranky generals he'd met. “You've let one of your Avengers go A.W.O.L. Get him back.”

“He made his decision, Director Fury. The team and I are going to respect it.“

Fury snorted.“You really don't want him to be out there on his own. Banner thinks we might cut him open, make him bleed for us. That won't happen on my watch, but it for damn sure is going to happen when he gets picked up by other interested parties.”

“Director, we do want him back, safe and without having to worry that our own government is going to harm him. We're working on that, sir.  
We're going to take a crack at changing the public's perception of the Hulk and we'll do whatever it takes to get Ross and S.H.I.E.L.D. off his back.”

“This isn't a perfect world, Captain Rogers. Banner needs to drop some of that pride, bend his neck, and come under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s protection. Ross is pathological about that man.”

“Yes sir. We know about Ross. As for Bruce bending his neck, he knows you only want him to do that so you can put a collar on him. He'd rather run and take his chances at staying free.”

“Hydra wants him. They're not going to respect any legal protections you wrangle for him,” Fury said, much more mildly than Steve had expected from him.

“Yes, sir.” Steve responded in kind, his own tone of voice level. “Our intelligence confirms that and Black Widow is looking into it right now. If it comes to it, can we rely on S.H.I.E.L.D. to help rescue Bruce Banner if Hydra kidnaps him?”

“Captain America,” Fury said, with a warning note. “I'm sure you remember that I told Banner he was on his own if he wouldn't play ball with us.” 

“I know what you told him,” Steve said evenly. “I'm asking what you'll do, if he's taken.”

“We'll cross that bridge if we come to it, Captain. Get him back before trouble really catches up to him. For his sake, I'm telling you this. Because we will be tracking him, and if we bring him in as a hostile, he's not going to like it. If the baton gets handed back to Ross, and I believe it will, especially now that Banner has up and done a runner, then your missing Avenger is going to like it even less.”

“We aren't going to force Bruce to do anything he doesn't want to do. We'll do everything we can to protect him, and Tony Stark is going to run a media campaign to get the public's support.”

“You're turning loose Tony Stark to sell the Hulk's image. I can hardly wait to see how that turns out. Very well, Captain. Put Hill back on.”

Hill took the phone and Steve asked JARVIS to send the video to Fury.

He waited for her at the door and escorted her down to the main lobby, where she collected the two agents assigned to monitor Banner's whereabouts. He didn't envy them. He figured they were in the doghouse at the moment, as well as all the agents who'd been on duty at the Tower. 

Bruce hadn't explained how he'd gotten out of the building unnoticed by S.H.I.E.L.D. He'd check with JARVIS about that later. 

He gave Hill a nod, and went to get his motorcycle out of Tony's personal garage.

 

* * * 

It was dark by the time he'd pulled up to a Best Western motel near Culver University. The ride had been enjoyable, a good part of it spent on the Blue Ridge Parkway. He'd had to go slower on that curvy mountain road but the scenic views of the Appalachian Mountains had made that trade worth it. It was fairly late in the evening but he didn't feel like going to bed yet, and besides, he was hungry. 

Betty Ross had agreed to meet with him tomorrow morning, but he thought he might go tonight to eat at the pizza place that belonged to Bruce's friend Stanley. He would talk to him about Bruce and see if he would agree to speak up for him. Tony felt that if Bruce's friends gave interviews then it would help humanize the Hulk and gain sympathy for Bruce. Steve wasn't sure if Stanley had known that his friend Bruce Banner was the Hulk, but he must know it now, after all the publicity. 

He checked into the motel and decided to jog over to the restaurant. He shrugged on the specially made backpack that contained his shield, and asked directions at the front desk to Stanley's Pizza Parlor.

* * * 

Bruce's friend was an older man, not tall, with a head of wispy greyish-white hair. He had a kind smile and was friendly with his customers, who all seemed fond of him, and there was a lot of joking and laughter between them. 

“I know who you are, Steve Rogers,” Stanley said quietly, as he placed Steve's pizza on a small rack on top of the table. “It's an honor to meet Captain America.”

Steve smiled at him. “I'm happy to meet you, too. You have a nice place here, and everybody seems to be having a good time. I'm a friend of Bruce Banner's and I'd really like to talk to you about him, but I guess we'd better wait until you close. This joint is jumping.” He took a slice and folded it to take a bite. 

Stanley chuckled. “That's right, you're from New York, aren't you? People around these parts never eat pizza like that.”

Steve finished his bite and said, “Brooklyn, actually. This is good, but it's different from what I remember from before I went into the Army. I haven't had many chances to eat pizza since I was revived, although Bruce and the rest of us shared some pizzas one night. I think he preferred his pizza-” 

“Vegetarian,” Stanley responded. “Mushrooms, black olives, green peppers and onions. That's what he likes the best, although he told me he'd learned not to be picky. Bruce, he's one of you now, one of the Avengers?”

Steve nodded. “Yes. His help was crucial in stopping that alien invasion. He's a hero, although I don't think he believes that. He's not with us now, though. He thought it best to leave again.”

Some new customers walked in, two couples who slid into an empty booth. One of the girls waved at Stanley, and he smiled at her. “Okay, Captain Rogers, I've got to tend to my customers, but I want to talk to you, too. I want to hear all about Bruce. It's been maybe a year and a half since he was here, and that visit didn't go so good for him. You, ah, know about Betty?”

Steve nodded. “I'm going to visit with her tomorrow.”

Stanley patted him on the shoulder. “Well then, enjoy your pizza. I'll be closing the doors in an hour, and then we'll have a talk. You got a place to stay, son? Because I've got a spare room upstairs. Bruce slept there for a few days, when he was here last. Worked for me, too, delivering pizzas. Broke my heart, seeing him do that. Do you know how smart he is?”

“Yes sir. I've got a pretty good idea from watching him and Mr. Stark work together.” Steve smiled, remembering Bruce taking charge of tracking down the Tesseract.

Stanley sighed. “Working in a lab, figuring out all that science that he's so good at and teaching graduate classes, that's what he should be doing.”

“Or working as a doctor. I was told he did that, too, whenever he could. But he couldn't do that and not give himself away for those few days he spent here. So, he delivered pizzas for you?” Steve took another bite. The pizza was great.

“He insisted,” Stanley said, gesturing with hands in a way that suggested losing that argument. “He said he needed an excuse to get into his old building on campus. He did a good job, too. I wish I had ten more like him working for me. He wouldn't let me just give him money.”

“Doctor Banner can be stubborn, I think.”

Stanley laughed. “Like a mule, sometimes. Then he frowned. “I remember he had to deal with some smart-alecky sorority brats who called him names when they wouldn't pay him for the pizzas. One of the other kids there clued me in, because Bruce didn't say anything about being insulted. I wasn't going to sell that sorority anymore pizzas after that, but Bruce talked me out of it.”

He looked at Steve, puzzled. “I don't really understand how he can become, well, what he becomes, because he's a patient guy, really. Now Betty, she can be a bit of a firecracker. Especially if someone tries to say something not so nice about Bruce. But you'll see that for yourself tomorrow. So, I didn't give you a chance to answer me, did I? Do you need a place to stay while you're here?”

“I'm fine, I'm at the Best Western. But thank you for your kindness.” Steve smiled gently at him, and he smiled back, patted Steve on the arm, and then went to talk to the two couples in the nearby booth.

Steve ate his pizza and watched Stanley laugh and talk and make people feel at home. He could see why Bruce had let his guard down and let this man become his friend. He hoped that before too long, Bruce would have a chance to come and visit with his old friend again. 

 

* * *

The man who opened the door and ushered him into Betty Ross' home the next morning was tall, classically handsome, and well-groomed with every hair in place on his head. Steve recognized him from Bruce's file. Dr. Leonard Samson, the fellow Betty Ross had given her heart to after Bruce had disappeared from her life. He was surprised to see him. According to the notes in the file on Bruce's relationships and Betty's, she'd  
broken up with her fiancée after he'd admitted to her that it had been him who'd notified General Ross that Bruce was in Willowdale.

He couldn't have looked more different from Bruce. Dr. Samson's hair was neatly combed. Bruce's curls were unruly, even when he wasn't running his hands through them while he was thinking about something. Bruce was short, Dr. Samson tall. Dr. Samson's expensive button-down shirt looked pressed, crisp. Bruce's shirts had been creased from being in his backpack; they were worn, frayed on the cuffs and the hems, and the Indian looking shirt he'd worn in the video had a small tear on the side. 

Bruce seemed disheveled no matter what he was wearing, but on him it looked cute. It made Steve want to pull Bruce to him, straighten his shirt, make sure his buttons were done up right, smooth down his wayward curls. Even the suit Tony had lent Bruce to wear when they'd witnessed Loki and Thor returning to Asgard had lost its crisp lines after Bruce had worn it for about twenty minutes.   
Handsome wasn't how he would describe Bruce, either. His features were pleasant, and his eyes were beautiful and very expressive, but he didn't look like a movie star, although Dr. Samson could pass for one. 

Dr. Samson had broad shoulders and an athletic build that to Steve's eye spoke of time spent regularly in a gym. Bruce wasn't overly muscled, although he was strong enough to handle the manual labor jobs he had frequently held. He knew Bruce could run fast and was fairly agile. Unfortunately, that had been skills observed by Ross' extraction team and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, when Bruce was evading capture.

Usually Bruce looked a combination of awkward and endearing, although Steve had sometimes seen a bit of his temper. Steve had also observed that Bruce usually tried to keep some distance between himself and other people. Steve figured he knew why. Hoping it would help Bruce feel more comfortable, Steve had taken a clue from how Tony treated Bruce and had made it a point to start touching him in friendship.

Each time Steve slid his hand down Bruce's arm or patted his shoulder, Bruce's posture would become less tense, muscles relaxing, a puzzled look often crossing his face.

Steve had started to really enjoy putting that look on Doctor Banner's face.

When Steve had kissed his mouth that first time, he'd looked dazed, his lips reddened and a little swollen. It was a very attractive look and, actually, when Bruce looked like that he could pass for a film star. Tony had told Steve once that Bruce was “a hot mess” but it wasn't a term he was comfortable with using. Back in his time, he would have thought of Bruce as being “keen.” Still, back in his time, he probably wouldn't have taken a chance on kissing him, so there were some advantages to being in this new century. 

He knew he'd surprised Bruce by that impulsive kiss, but then Bruce always looked a bit startled when one of the team hugged him or touched him. It made Steve feel a little sad, seeing that reaction.

Dr. Samson and Steve shook hands and introduced themselves. Steve couldn't help but compare Bruce's hands with this man's. Bruce's hands were smaller, calloused, but not scarred. Actual injuries to Bruce's skin healed and left no scars, according to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files, but the slow buildup of roughened skin apparently didn't trigger Bruce's body in the same way. Dr. Samson's hands were smooth. He was a psychiatrist, a doctor for the mind. He didn't handle shovels and hammers the way Bruce would have as a laborer.

The biggest difference between their hands was that Dr. Sampson's were still, relaxed. Bruce's hands were seldom quiet; he was constantly fidgeting with them, running a finger over knuckles, clutching them together, rubbing circles into his palms, rolling up the hem of his shirt, tucking them under his crossed arms or guiltily shoving them into his pockets. He wondered if Bruce had always done that, or if he'd picked up the habit after the gamma accident. 

It was worse if he was under stress, like when Director Fury had been haranguing him. It had been one reason Steve had taken him out of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, with the other Avengers as Bruce's escort. Bruce had gone from just fidgeting to clenching his hands so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. 

Dr. Samson smiled at him, a kind expression on his face. Smiling back, Steve thought maybe that this was what Dr. Samson and Bruce had in common, other than both of them being smart, educated men. 

Maybe Dr. Samson was as kind to others as Bruce was to the people he met, and Betty Ross was attracted to men like that.

Dr. Sampson motioned towards a doorway. “Would you like to wait for Betty in the kitchen, Captain Rogers? I just made a new pot of coffee. She's caught up in a video conference call about an experiment her grad students are running and it might be a little while until she's able to let go of their hands and send them off to do the next step.”

“Thank you, that sounds fine.” Steve followed Samson into the large comfortable kitchen, with its pans readily available from a rack hanging over a butcher block and a sturdy kitchen table. 

Samson filled two mugs and placed them on the table. “Cream, sugar?”

“Black is fine.” It was how he'd learned to drink it as a youngster, when cream and sugar for coffee was a luxury he and his mother couldn't afford. 

They sat quietly for a moment, Steve sipping his coffee and Samson just holding his mug between his hands.

Finally, Samson broke the silence. “I've seen the news reports, you know, about what you and Bruce and the rest of your Avengers did to save us. I'd like to say thank you. I'd especially like to say that to Bruce, and to apologize to him.”

“You're welcome, Doctor Samson. Apologize?”

Dr. Samson nodded. “Oh, yes. I know from what you told Betty that Bruce isn't in New York anymore. I was hoping he might stop here, but, well, I don't blame him for not taking a chance like that. I made a mistake about him. A serious mistake, and it almost cost him his freedom, and Betty her life.”

“I'm aware that you notified General Ross that Bruce had returned to Willowdale.” Steve picked up his cup but just held it in his hands. He had the notion that Samson had a lot more to say.

Samson sighed. “Yes. I take full responsibility for that action. Bruce would have slipped out of town without being trapped by the Army, probably, although I gather they were tracking him anyway.”

“You don't have to tell me, I understand you probably had your reasons.”

“That I was jealous of Bruce?” Dr. Samson shook his head.

“Sir?”

“No,” he said quietly. “That's not the reason. Let me try to explain. Betty's father called me when the two of us started to get serious. He asked me to keep our conversation private, and I agreed. I hoped that if the lines of communication could be opened through me, Betty could reconcile with her father.”

“You were trying to help?” Steve took another swallow of his coffee. 

“Yes, that was my intention.” Dr. Samson sighed. “General Ross and Betty had been estranged since the lab accident, but neither of them would talk about what exactly happened. Her father said it was Banner's fault, and that he was an extremely dangerous man. He said that he'd drag Betty back into his madness, that he'd almost killed her once, and he'd put her at risk again because Banner was her weakness, and she needed protection from him. I had no idea what it was about Bruce Banner that General Ross kept warning me about, though.”

He shook his head. “I'm pretty good at reading people, Captain Rogers, if I can see their body language and look at their eyes. It wasn't until after Bruce changed into the Hulk and took Betty away that I met face to face with General Ross. Then I knew that he'd lied to me and I'd fallen for it.”

“So, what did you think of Bruce, then?” Steve asked, and drank the rest of his coffee while Samson took a sip of his.

Dr. Samson looked ruefully at Steve. “You know he tried to hide after she spotted him at Stan's place, but she found him in the alley. At her insistence, he agreed to come by later, but they talked privately. I didn't really see him at that point. He didn't come though, so Betty left the house and drove around looking for him. It was storming pretty badly by then and she found him trying to hitchhike his way out of town.”

He shifted a little in his chair and looked wryly at Steve. “I wasn't in favor of her bringing him into our home, to be honest. But Betty never knew what had happened to Bruce or why he'd disappeared. I knew she'd loved him so I went along with her wishes, but I was hoping that she wouldn't find him. I also called her father, to get his advice. She didn't know I did that, and I hung up on him when the two of them returned.”

He smiled crookedly. “Bruce didn't look dangerous. Betty was pretty wet from being out in the rain, but Bruce was soaked to the skin. He squelched when he walked, dripping so much water on the floor that I had to get out the mop. He looked so.... well, awkward. Tired. Sad, too, but he tried to hide that from us. He really couldn't manage it, though.”

Steve nodded, then brushed a stray lock back that had fallen on his forehead. “I know. Bruce tries very hard to stay calm, but his eyes and his hands always show what he's feeling. I think he found a way to be content when he was in South America and overseas. He told us he'd moved on, focused on helping other people. He lost that peace of mind when he came to help us track down Loki. He left us afterwards because he was afraid he would be taken and experimented on by our own government.” 

Samson sat up a little straighter and squared his shoulders. “And I'm sure my actions contributed to that fear. I've regretted what I did, and Betty left me because of it. I'm very lucky that she's forgiven me. She's very protective of Bruce. Anyway, the night that we met, he apologized, said it wasn't a good idea for him to be here, and that he'd just go. I knew he said that for me, for being Betty's ex and coming into our home. But thinking it over, I decided that this was a chance for Betty to finally get that closure with him. After seeing him, I was intrigued on my own behalf. I wanted a chance to puzzle him out. I asked him to stay.”

While Samson finished his coffee, Steve thought about Bruce being in this house and seeing the woman he loved with another man. He'd lost the life that should have been his, all out of his grasp as long as the Hulk lived within him. 

Samson cleared his throat. “I liked him. I really didn't want to, either. I wanted him to be an asshole, see Betty realize that he had been bad news, and watch her shut the door on him forever. Instead, I could see why she'd fallen in love with him.”

Making a soft sound of amusement, Samson made a gesture with his hand, taking in the sunlit kitchen. 

“The three of us actually had an enjoyable dinner together, and for a few minutes he seemed to forget his troubles, laughing with us about something I said about my practice. Then I think everything rebounded on him, like a tidal wave washing over him. He had nothing anymore. Here he was, a refugee in what should have been his home.”

“So it hit him kind of hard?”

“That's an understatement, Captain.” Dr. Samson said, his eyes faraway.

Steve stayed silent, waiting.

Dr. Samson came back from what ever memories he was recalling and looked Steve in the eye. “I mean, he looked like a lost soul, and I'm sure he was aware of that. Everything he owned was in that beat up backpack, and soaked to boot. He even had to wear my clothes, and of course they didn't fit. He broke down a little, just a sob and a few tears that he couldn't stop in time. Then he stuffed all of those emotions back down deep inside of himself, but his eyes – you're right about them. He couldn't keep the desolation he was feeling from showing in them.”

Steve nodded. Bruce's eyes did give him away every time, he thought. He remembered when Bruce had come into the gym to ask him about going to the Met to see the wartime artists' exhibit. It had only taken a quick glance into his eyes to see that something was very wrong.

Continuing, Samson said, “I could see that Betty wanted to comfort him, hug him. She didn't, since I was there. Hell, I wanted to hug him, but I thought he wouldn't feel comfortable accepting that kind of gesture from his... rival.” 

He got up and at Steve's nod refilled both their mugs. “Later, after dinner, he couldn't sleep, and I was still up, so we talked. I admitted how I felt about him re-emerging into Betty's life, and he assured me that he hadn't come back to Willowdale to see her. He was both totally honest with me and absolutely guarded at the same time.” He put the coffee pot back and leaned against the counter.

Steve nodded. “Yes, he's been the same way with us, about leaving.” 

“As a psychiatrist, I would love to work with him, especially now that I know what he wouldn't tell me that night. I was on campus when Bruce turned into the Hulk.” 

A look of remembered awe crossed his face. “It was unbelievable and amazing to see him like that. He was so protective of Betty. He saved her life, you know. I know about his childhood, and I've seen what that kind of trauma can do to a child. Bruce was a resilient kid, or he never could have become a successful doctor and scientist, or love Betty like he did, but still, that kind of abuse leaves its mark. It's my supposition that the Hulk comes from what he experienced at the hands of his father.”

He sat back down and looked at Steve earnestly. “Bruce desperately needs therapy. I told him he should talk to a shrink, and that was before I knew what happens when he becomes angry or scared. I can't treat him because of his former relationship with my fiancee. But to have the chance to delve into his psyche? To understand the Hulk and what primal fears form him from Bruce's own flesh? I envy any shrinks who treat him. Bruce Banner is fascinating. Ferreting out such deeply felt repression and hypothesizing what it would take to cure him from ever becoming the Hulk again would be the pinnacle of a career.”

Samson seemed lost in thought for a moment, then licked his lips and sipped at his coffee. Steve was a little troubled about how fervent Samson had sounded when he'd discussed Bruce's need for psychological treatment. Dr. Samson seemed to have lost sight of the man for a moment, he'd been so focused on what a feather in someone's cap it would be to have Bruce as a patient. 

Steve cleared his throat. “You know that I'm here to talk to Miss Ross about giving an interview about Bruce.”

Dr. Samson nodded. “Yes, she explained after you'd called her from New York.”

“We'd like to see a shift in public opinion about the Hulk and Bruce, so that we can gain support for opposing those who want to experiment on him. Would you be willing to be supportive of this mission?” Steve asked carefully. 

“And by capture Bruce to experiment on him you mean by Betty's father, General Ross. I'm fascinated by Bruce's case, but the general is obsessed with him. He'll oppose your campaign, you realize. I, on the other hand, am very willing to help Bruce. Making amends for letting General Ross know Bruce was here the night Betty offered him sanctuary would be good for my soul.”

There was a huff of exasperation and Steve saw that Betty Ross, lovely with her big blue eyes and long brown hair, had stopped at the kitchen doorway. Steve felt his eyes widen as he took in her appearance.

“Leonard, I've told you that Bruce won't hold you calling the General against you. You didn't know then what you do now.” Betty Ross walked to Samson and stood beside him and he grasped her hand. “Hello, Captain Rogers. I'm so glad to meet you. I have so many questions for you about Bruce.”

Betty Ross was expecting a baby. Steve tried to keep his eyes only on her face, but she chuckled. “I guess Leonard didn't tell you. Our son is going to be born in about three months. We've decided to call him Robert Leonard Samson, after Bruce and Leonard.”

Robert was Bruce's first name, Steve knew. Leonard stood up, and kissed Betty on the top of her head. “You two should talk alone now. And Captain, if you find Bruce, tell him he's going to have a namesake in the world, and we'd love it if he would come and meet him.” 

Betty sat down in the chair Dr. Samson had vacated, her pretty eyes intent upon his, and said softly, “I was so happy to hear that Bruce found a place for himself, with you, Captain, and with those other people who are on your team.”

“You're right, Miss Ross. He does have a place with the Avengers.”

She laid a hand on belly, and said,“When you called and told me he'd left again...” 

“He didn't think it was safe for him or for us if he stayed.” 

“I saw the news reports, you, him, Iron Man, all fighting. I saw Bruce catch Iron Man when he fell from the sky. And I've seen Bruce fight as the Hulk before, in Harlem. He saved me, and a lot of other people, from the Abomination. I'll do anything to help him.”

“We hope that you can. You know him the best, Miss Ross. As I mentioned when I called, if you and perhaps his other friends would consent to be interviewed, it might help the public to start pulling for him.”

“Oh, please, call me Betty. Of course I'll help. Leonard will too.”

“Most people are leery of him, so showing people that he's a good man, not a monster, can help him be accepted. If the public sees that it's wrong for Bruce to be hounded by the government, that he's not the terrorist he's been called and certainly not a biological weapon, then we hope he can stop running,” Steve said. 

Betty grasped his hand and squeezed it, before releasing him. “It's time that people know the truth about the accident that turned him into the Hulk. And, do you know about my father's role in all of this?”

“Yes, we're aware.” He smiled warmly at her. “And my name is Steve.” 

He cleared his throat, feeling a little uncertain about what he needed to ask her. “It can't have been easy for you, having Bruce disappear from your life the way he did. Whoever interviews you is going to ask about that, and, well, I want to make sure you understand that there will be some very personal questions asked of you. Will you be comfortable with that, Betty?”

“I think so.” She laid a hand on her belly and Steve wondered if the baby was kicking her. “I loved Bruce. We were together for a long time, and I still love him. He's probably the best friend I've ever had, and it's been so awful all these years not knowing how he was or where he was living. Or if he was even alive.” 

Smiling at him, she said, “Leonard and I have talked about this, you know. I was so angry with my Leonard after I found out he'd called my father and told him Bruce was in Willowdale. I knew that Bruce wouldn't be angry at Leonard. That's not how Bruce thinks. He'd understand that Leonard was worried about me, my safety.”

Steve was puzzled, and it must have shown on his face because Betty laughed. “I've confused you, haven't I?”

“Well, yes.”

“I was angry with Leonard because he had no right to go over my head to my father and have secret conversations that involved me and the decisions I've made. I'm not a child, and what I want in a relationship is to be treated with respect and as a partner. I broke up with Leonard over that.” Betty twisted the engagement ring on her finger. 

“But you two made back up,” Steve said.

Betty nodded. “It took us months of talking things out for me to trust him again. But, I've made mistakes in life too, and I believe in second chances. We're good now.”

Steve swallowed, his chest feeling heavy, Peggy on his mind. “Just tell me to mind my own business, Betty, if I step over a line here. Do you think it would have been better if Bruce hadn't shown up on your doorstep after being gone for so long?”

She made a face. “Actually, I had to track him down and convince him to come home with me. He was afraid of interfering and that it might be dangerous for us if stayed at our house that night. But I don't regret finding that closure with him. You see, I never knew why he disappeared. My father just called him a coward. Of course I didn't accept that and Dad and I had a huge fight. We're still estranged. It wasn't until Bruce and I talked that I learned what my father wanted with him. My God, the extent that Bruce has been hunted by my father is just horrible.”

“It had to be painful for you to see him again like that. Was it disruptive to the life you'd built without Bruce? You're sure it was worth it?” Peggy thought he'd died decades ago. She must have come to some kind of peace about it and it felt selfish to him to thrust himself back into her life now. 

Betty looked sharply at him and reached out to pat his arm. “Yes. It was worth it. I really wish that he'd called me before he left New York this time. I know why he won't, though. He wants me to go on with my life and not think we could turn time back and be lovers again. To be his, and for him to be mine.”

She touched a chain hanging around her neck and pulled out a necklace with a diamond heart. 

“We tried that, when he escaped with me from Culver, when the Hulk took me into the Appalachians. But, well. Bruce wouldn't let us become physical with each other. He was afraid he would transform.” 

Shooting him a look, she said, “I'm not embarrassing you, am I, Captain?” 

She was, but he shook his head no and hoped he wouldn't blush.

“We pawned my necklace so we could go see Sterns, hoping he could help Bruce. During the long drive to New York, in the old junker of a truck we bought, we talked about us. You know, we never had made that last commitment to each other, to be married by law or just make a personal commitment. We took as many steps back from each other as we did forward.”

She laid a hand protectively on her belly again, and sighed. “Bruce accepted that what we'd had was gone before I did. My father did catch us, after we'd completed the experiment with Sterns. He was taking Bruce off in a helicopter somewhere and let me go with him. I'm sure it wasn't out of sympathy for us. I know my father better than that. He thought Bruce wouldn't try to escape if he thought I might be hurt by it.”

Her eyes started to shine a little with tears. “I understand Bruce so well. Do you know how we met?”

“At Harvard, I believe.”

“Yes.” She laughed a little, shook her head. “It seems like such a long time ago now. Back when we were in school, we volunteered as test subjects in an experiment with hallucinogens. Tripping together like that lowered his guard, his defenses, and we talked and talked with each other. We've stayed close ever since, best friends even during the times that we stepped back from being lovers. He told me on that drive about trying to kill himself. Oh! Did you know about that, Steve?”

He nodded and she sighed. “Before letting himself fall from the helicopter to trigger the change and stop the Abomination, he kissed me. I knew he was saying goodbye to me, to any future where the two of us could be together.” 

“That must have been so painful for both of you.” Steve swallowed down the lump that kept wanting to rise in his throat, and flashed on his last thoughts when dying, before the cold, icy waters had torn him from Peggy forever.

Tears escaped and slowly rolled down her cheeks. She dashed them away and said, her voice thick, “The General would have set the helicopter down but Bruce told him no. He didn't know if falling from that height after being injected with Stern's inhibitor would make him change or not, and he did it anyway. He could have died if he hadn't transformed, and that was fine with him.”

“I'm sorry for what you went through, Betty.”

She sobbed once and then put her hand over her mouth. After a minute she dropped it. “That man breaks my heart.”

She wiped at her eyes again, touched the necklace laying against her breasts. “He got this back and mailed it to me, along with a letter. You asked me if I regretted him seeing me after such a long time of being apart.”

“It would be more than understandable if you did.” He was only a memory to Peggy now, a wound that had scabbed and healed over. He didn't want to ever cause her pain again.

“I don't regret seeing Bruce again, Steve. But he does. He wrote that he should never have disrupted my life, put me in such danger. He wrote about us, and after reading it I finally accepted that Bruce and I are never going to be together again. Even if he finds a way to stop being the Hulk, we've gone our separate ways now. But he'll always be dear to me and a good, good friend.” 

She dropped the necklace so it lay against her skin and was mostly hidden by her blouse. Looking again at Steve, she said, “In his letter, he wrote that he'd accepted that a cure wasn't possible, and that he was going to learn to live with 'the other guy' and focus on being a better person. Be a doctor and help people. I haven't heard from him since.”

She got out of the chair slowly. “I'm going to make some tea. Chamomile always makes me feel better after I've gotten teary.”

She filled a tea kettle and turned the stove on, watched the blue flames for a moment, then walked over to him and laid her hand on his shoulder. He half turned in his chair and looked up at her.

“Steve? Maybe I'm being nosy, but I got the impression that you wanted to know how I felt about Bruce coming back into my life for personal reasons. Am I wrong? And you don't have to answer, but if there's something you'd like to talk about?”

She stepped back then, and when he didn't answer she returned to the stove and waited, a hand absently smoothing over her belly. He wondered if things had turned out differently, if Peggy would have caressed their baby while she carried him or her in her belly. He wondered if Peggy ever did have children. The file Fury had given him hadn't mentioned that.

“There was...” Steve halted, feeling tongue-tied. But she'd offered to listen and he hadn't talked about Peggy to anybody. Not even Bruce, although he'd almost told him, back when they were at the museum and they was looking at the drawing of her that he'd made.

She returned to the table and sat down beside him. She took his hand.“You're so young. And you've gone from fighting and dying in a war to fighting in this battle with aliens. It must be so very strange for you, what's happened. Steve, are you okay?”

He swallowed. _Buck up, soldier,_ he told himself. He tried smiling at her, but from her expression he didn't think he'd succeeded in reassuring her that he was fine.

Well, he wasn't fine. He hadn't been since he'd caught on that the people around him were playacting and the things in the room with him only props. The baseball game blaring out of the radio in that make-believe room had been the last clue. He'd been at that game, for heaven's sake. 

He'd been trying to adjust to what Tony kept telling him was a brave new world – JARVIS had explained the reference to him, once Steve was convinced Tony was quoting something – and he would achieve that mission. He was the team leader for the Avengers now, and he would build a new life on that foundation. But he missed his old life so much. No. That wasn't exactly it. He missed the people he'd left behind. All gone now, except for Peggy, retired in England. And he didn't know what was the right thing to do. For her. For him.

“Steve? Sweetie, what is it? If you'd rather talk to Leonard, I can go get him.” Bruce's Betty was nice, her hand in his felt warm and comforting. But, not Bruce's anymore, not as a lover or a wife. 

The tea kettle whistled. Betty squeezed his hand and started to get up.

Steve held onto her hand. “I knew someone who used to say a cup of tea would fix anything. She had a little saying about it. Um, 'If you're cold, it will warm you, too heated, it will cool you, depressed, it will cheer you, too excited, it will calm you. ' She made me drink a cup when I had to tell her my friend Bucky died.”

The whistle was loud and demanding, but Betty was frozen in place, her hand still in his, waiting for him to let the painful words out from where they were lurking in his chest, feeling heavy and hot. 

He smiled at her, and let go of her hand, stood up and stepped to the stove. Turning the kettle off, he asked her, “Could I have a cup of tea, too?” 

She nodded, and he took a deep breath. “There was a girl I was in love with during the war. Her name is Peggy. And she's still alive.”

 

* * *


	6. Clint Introduces Tony to Cheap Bourbon

Clint slumped against Tony's expensive outside walls and watched as the streak of light in the night sky came closer and closer. He hadn't come up to the top of Stark's tower to wait for Tony to show back up, but whatever. The blur transformed into an elegant red and gold metal suit, and slowed, hovering above the crazy contraption Stark had built that would strip the suit from his body and send it back to its alcove. 

Clint wondered which suit Tony had chosen before jetting off early yesterday morning. They seemed to have multiplied every time he wandered into Tony's workshop. Tony didn't mind him hanging out there, when Clint was bored. Tony's music collection was awesome, and Tony always had his rock blaring. Tony treated him pretty much the way he did his robots, ordering Clint to root through his tool boxes for various screwdrivers or ratchets and to lay them down on the workbench so Tony could grab them.

Stark and his aversion to being handed things. Clint wondered when Tony had picked up that little phobia. He'd noticed it not long after moving into the tower for their mandatory three weeks away from S.H.I.E.L.D. Nat said he'd had it when she'd been undercover as his PA. 

Whatever. 

Clint knew other people found his fondness for being up high weird. It made him annoyed sometimes, the looks they'd give him, so he wasn't inclined to do the whole glass house and stones thing about somebody else's non-mainstream habits.

Tony dropped down onto the platform and Clint drank from the bottle in his hand, watching his fellow _Avenger_ emerge from the suit. 

Tony was in deep shit with Cap. And Fury. Natasha would give him one of her killer looks. Well, she would have if she was here. Unlike him, _she_ was back to work. S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent her to sniff around and find out what the Hand, those demented ninjas, were up to these days.

Clint took another swallow and watched Tony walk towards the elevator. “Hey. Iron Man.”

Tony started, and turned around. “Barton?”

“That's me. Otherwise known as the World's Greatest Marksman.” Clint gave a little flourish with his hand. The one that wasn't holding the bottle.

Tony snorted. “Little full of yourself, aren't you? World's Greatest Marksman?”

“It's what I was billed as when I worked in the circus. It was plastered on the banners and the grinders would talk me up.” Funny how he always started thinking about his time under the big top when things got shitty. “Like this, 'Hawkeye, the World's Greatest Marksman.'” He imitated the cadence of circus showmen who were drumming up business.

Tony walked over to him, looked down at where he was sitting in the shadows, and frowned. “Old Bardstown Gold? That's what you're drinking?”

Clint studied the bottle. “Sure am.”

“You know there's a lot better stuff around here to drink,” Tony said, quirking an eyebrow up. 

Clint shook his head. “It's your stuff. Not mine.”

“So you went out and paid, what? Eighty or ninety dollars for that?” Tony held out his hand and then impatiently snapped his fingers a couple of times until Clint handed it over.

Tony upended the bottle and took a hefty swig. 

“Fifteen,” Clint said. And there had been times when even that much was more than he could afford. 

“Hmm. It's not absolutely awful.” Tony handed the bottle back and Clint took a small swallow. He wanted to be able to walk to his room under his own steam. 

Tony dropped down next to him. “I know why I'm in no hurry to go inside, but why are you out here?”

“Can't a guy just hang out on a rooftop?” Shit. That sounded too... forlorn or something. He needed to watch his mouth. Clint Barton was dealing with the shit that had happened to him. That was his story, and he was sticking to it. He almost laughed at himself then. Right.

“Sure.” Tony reached into a pocket on his flight undersuit and pulled out two small packages. He held one out to Clint. Shrugging, Clint took it and tore open the snack. He leaned his head back and tossed an almond high in the air and caught it in his mouth.

Tony dumped a few nuts into his hand and tucked the package away. He started pouring them from one hand to the other.

“JARVIS told me about Coulson.” An expression crossed Tony's face that looked suspiciously like sympathy.

Clint just threw another almond in the air, but caught it again with his other hand. “Yeah. Fucking pneumonia. Medical's banned visitors till his white blood count gets better.”

“Sucks.”

“Yeah.” Clint took another swig of bourbon and passed it over to Tony. 

Tony took a sip, and then passed the bottle back. “What is this cheap shit? Comfort alcohol?”

Clint laughed a little. “Uh-huh. From my misspent youth. Hell, it beat drinking Strawberry Hill.”

Tony shuddered. “Ugh. Bad, very bad memories about Strawberry Hill and boarding school. So. S.H.I.E.L.D. not ready to take you back yet?”

“Stark...”

“Well, you are out here moping, and I don't think it's just because of Agent's pneumonia or Romanoff's departure.” Tony popped the almonds in his hand into his mouth. 

“Golly gee. Tony Stark really is a genius.”

“Sarcasm becomes you, Barton. So, shrinks dragging their feet about clearing you?”

“Anyone ever tell you you're a nosy son-of-a-bitch, Tony?”

“Do I even need to answer that, Legolas?” Tony held out his hand for the bottle and Clint passed it over.

Fuck it. Just, fuck it.

Tony gave him an intense look, like Clint was a robot with a malfunctioning part. God, the man could be one hell of a curious son-of-a-bitch.

Clint muttered, “Ah, fuck it.” He stared at Tony as the seconds ticked by, then gave in. “I was doing pretty good at snowing the psych eval team, until they brought in an empath. She gave me a thumbs down. Now I've got mandatory therapy to get through before I'm cleared for S.H.I.E.L.D. missions.” He glared at Tony. “But you. We're all pissed at you, Tony.”

“What for? Apartments not working out? Want to repaint? I know you love the archery range, don't even tell me you don't.” Tony coughed this time when he took another long pull at the bottle.

Clint shook his head. “I'm cool with staying here and you paying my rent. I'm easy like that. I wasn't attached to my old digs or anything.” Tony handed him the bottle back and Clint swallowed another mouthful.

“So, what's the word on the rest of the gang? Our three-week agreement to stay put here together is over. Romanoff want to split, or Rogers?” 

“I don't know about Steve. Nat's okay with hanging out in the tower for now. I think she's in love with her bathtub, and she – don't you blab this to her, Stark-- well, she feels okay hanging with the team.”

“She luvs us,” Tony smirked.

“No,” Clint drawled. “But she feels connected. She's got our backs, and not just during missions. Tasha doesn't do that for many people. Coulson, me. Maybe Fury. And now Steve and Bruce and Thor. Even you.”

“Even me? You sure about that? I halfway expect laser beams to shoot out of her eyes when she's pissed at me.” Tony made an exaggerated scared face. 

Clint poked him in the chest. “You're still in one piece, aren't you? Even when you're being an annoying shit. You're lucky she already left on a mission and it's only Cap and me to ream you out, considering what you just got done pulling.”

“Oh. So you guys know about that?”

Clint snorted. “S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't stupid, Tony. Neither are we. We found out. And Tasha might reserve the right to take you down, but she's not going to let any bad guys have that privilege.”

“So you sharing your booze with me is reaming me out?” Tony snickered, and it pissed Clint off.

“Yeah. My plan is to give you a massive hangover. I hope you'll be hovering over the toilet for hours.”

“It'll take a lot more than swallowing some of this swill.” He reached for the bottle and Clint handed it over.

“You're an idiot, Tony.”

“Sticks and stones, stones and sticks.” Tony sounded almost gleeful and it pissed Clint off even more. 

He scowled at Tony. “You're on a team, asshole, and you should have told us what you wanted to do. Hell, I'm bored. I'd have come along just for that reason.”

“This wasn't Avengers' business. This was me cleaning up my own damn mess.” Tony scowled right back at him and took a long pull from the bottle.

“We would have helped.” 

“My mess.” Tony said, slowly, deliberately. “My weapons in the wrong hands. I made it go boom, problem solved.”

“You didn't have any backup. You didn't inform S.H.I.E.L.D. that you were going for that Ten Rings weapon cache. Man, Coulson's gonna be pissed when he reads the report.” When he was well enough to stay conscious for more than fifteen minutes at a time, Clint thought. And that didn't look to be any time soon. 

“You're not cleared for S.H.I.E.L.D. missions anyway, Barton.” He handed the bottle back to Clint, who took his turn at emptying the sucker.

“Fuck S.H.I.E.L.D. grounding me,” Clint growled. “Am I an Avenger, or not? I'm not asking S.H.I.E.L.D. for permission when it comes to an Avengers mission.”

“Chill, man. Nobody's saying you aren't an Avenger. And I don't give a rat's ass if you don't jump when Fury tells you to hop to it. But. This. Was. My. Mess. I brought those weapons into the world and I should be the one to take them out when they're in the wrong hands. Me. Get it? I'm responsible.” Tony's dark eyes looked fiery, no trace of the sarcastic, suave smart-ass that the public loved to watch. 

Clint glared at him. “We were worried about you, you asshole. And Pepper's going to skin you alive.”

Tony winced. “I know. I had a short conversation with her after the mission. And by short I mean she hung up on me.”

“So that's why you're drinking with me out here?” Clint felt his anger with Tony melting away. 

Tony looked out at the city lights and stayed quiet for a minute before he coughed. “Well, it's, oh, twenty percent of why I'm still here. Maybe twenty-eight percent. I'm willing to go with twenty-eight percent.”

“So what's the other seventy-two percent about?” Clint could do math. Sure he didn't know squat about stuff that would get Stark and Banner all excited, like quantum mechanics and equations that took up an entire wall space, but hey, he could do percentiles.

“Hiding from Rogers?” Tony grimaced. “Well, that's, uh, say thirty, thirty-five percent. If you're mad about my little solo act, then Cap sure ain't gonna be happy. I'm a genius. I can extrapolate data.”

“Still leaves thirty-seven percent of... what?”

Tony grabbed Clint's head and planted a sloppy kiss on his forehead. “There's your other thirty-seven percent. Let's never talk of this again. Give me that cheap crap. If I've got to listen to Captain America chewing me out, I'm for sure not going to do it sober.”

* * *


	7. Traveling to the Helicarrier

Steve finished a sketch of Clint drawing back his bow and stowed away his pad and pencils. He looked around the quinjet, still impressed by how much the field of aviation had improved since he'd last been at the controls of a plane. 

Suddenly the jet was buffeted by strong air currents and Steve gripped the armrests of his seat. Automatically, he glanced at his team to check their status.

Tony's dark head was bent over the gadget on his lap and his only reaction to the turbulence the quinjet was experiencing was to grab his tablet before it slid to the floor. 

From the pilot's chair, Clint said, “Heads up, guys. We're probably going to be experiencing more turbulence for a while since there's a big stretch of cirrus clouds ahead. Put your seat belts on.”

“How long before we reach the helicarrier, Clint?” Steve asked, raising his voice.

“ETA is fifty minutes, Cap.”

Tony ignored them both. His seat belt remained unfastened. He probably hadn't even heard Clint, as he was listening to music through the little speakers in his ears as he worked.

Occasionally he would look up, dark eyes blankly staring. Sometimes he would run his hand through his hair and mess up his fancy hair style, leaving locks of hair to flop on his forehead. 

He was obviously engrossed in calculations and measurements, because he'd type rapidly and then make sudden movements with his hands. The air in front of him would be filled with designs and he would move them around, sometimes magnifying them or discarding parts.

Steve wondered if Tony even remembered he was on a quinjet. “Tony.” No response. He tried again, louder, to get Tony's attention. It was as successful as his first attempt.

Sighing, Steve unfastened his own seatbelt, balancing easily through the next wave of turbulence, and dropped quietly into the seat next to Tony. He reached right across Tony's lap and grabbed the seat belt and fastened it for him, then secured his own. 

Tony never even noticed. Well, that was better than Tony taking offense and the two of them having another go around with each other like they'd had three days ago. Tony had returned from his self-appointed mission to destroy Stark weapons that had fallen into terrorists' hands and, well, his mother would have called the words they'd thrown at each other a real donnybrook. She'd have told him to use his head, find another way to get through to the boy.

At least they hadn't traded punches, although Steve would never try to flatten Tony unless he was in his Iron Man suit. Being the Avengers team leader wasn't like being in the Army; the only reason Tony Stark and the others followed his lead was because they willingly ceded that authority to him. He wouldn't abuse it. But Tony had taken unacceptable risks with that solo mission. After three days of mulling it over – and learning as much as he could about Tony from JARVIS and Miss Potts – Steve thought the reason why Tony had done that was a combination of Tony's arrogance and confidence in his own abilities and something else that Tony put up a pretty good smokescreen to hide. Tony Stark had a problem trusting other people. Steve suspected he didn't risk asking for help to avoid being rejected. That needed to change. 

Tony was unbelievably generous, in a usually careless, off-hand way. Steve knew that Tony would back him or any of the team. He could be trusted to put himself on the line. He would ask for assistance, if it was to save other people. But just for him? Steve doubted that Tony would do that. He was stubborn. He'd been dying from his earlier version of the arc reactor in his chest and he hadn't asked for help. He'd tried to fix the problem himself. Despite the flamboyant rich brat behavior he knew Tony had excelled at showing to others, Steve didn't think Tony valued himself very much. His technical skills, yes. Tony as a person, no. 

Steve had to find a better way to handle Tony. He really didn't like being at odds with him. Tony was, to use S.H.I.E.L.D.'s terminology, an asset. Besides, he'd be a poor friend if he didn't look out for Howard's boy. Even if it seemed Howard hadn't done such a great job of it himself.

It was amazing watching Tony concentrate like this. Howard had probably fit the definition of a genius, but he'd never seen Howard go so deep into thinking that everything else around him dropped away. 

Tony brought up another screen of designs and with one hand flicked through it, magnifying what looked like engine parts to Steve. With the other hand, Tony absently reached into a pocket and brought out a package of dried cherries. He tried to thumb it open but the package wasn't cooperating. Steve opened it, then shook his head, smiling, because Tony still hadn't realized Steve was doing things for him. Tony ate some of the cherries and left the package balanced on his thigh. 

At least Tony did remember to eat when he was on one of his science or engineering benders. Miss Potts had told Steve that while Tony might not leave his lab or workshop for days, he did munch on snacks or drink health shakes, just as long as he could have at least one hand free for working. Getting him to sit down to a meal when he was in that frame of mind was practically impossible, though. Tony's sleep patterns when he was focused so intently on a project were erratic. He had nightmares sometimes. Miss Potts had told him that, too, when Steve had asked for her help in understanding Tony when they'd both been alone in the Avengers' kitchen.

She'd looked at him for an awkward minute before answering, though, her blue eyes intent. “He's going to keep being an Avenger and being Iron Man,” she'd finally said. “He's trying so hard to be a good person, Steve, and this is how he thinks he can do it. I've accepted that about him. I love him for it. I don't love the danger he'll be facing. So, I'll tell you what you want to know. Maybe it will help you keep him safer.”

“Thank you, Miss Potts. I'll keep what you tell me to myself.” 

“I won't lie to Tony. I'm going to tell him that we talked. He's going to resent that, at least for a while. Hold your ground with him, and don't let him bait you. Be his friend. He's worth it.”

She'd patted him on the arm, and they settled down at the kitchen table for a long talk. She'd wished him luck when they'd finished. He had thanked her wryly. He'd been sure he was going to need it to help his old friend's son. 

They went through several more bumpy patches, the jet shaking off the effects like a dog shaking off the rain. Tony apparently finished his work on improving the helicarrier and shut down his project, took out the little speakers from his ears and startled a little when he realized that Steve was sitting next to him. Steve smiled at him, gave him a friendly nudge with his elbow.

“Cap?” Tony seemed a little flustered. He picked up the package and offered it to Steve. “Want some?”

Steve took it and helped himself. “Thanks.” He wasn't sure Tony even knew what he'd been eating, but asking him to name the fruit would only make Tony react defensively. “We should be at the helicarrier soon.”

“Right. I've got engineering to do. It's gonna take me at least a couple of hours.” Tony knuckled his eyes and arched his back, then relaxed against the seat.

“Clint and I will keep busy after my meeting with Fury and his therapy session. Maybe the gym, or some flight training. You take as much time as you need to do your work.” So far, Steve thought, things were going well between them.

“Any word on our lovely assassin?” Tony drummed one hand against the armrest for a moment.

“Natasha is en-route from her mission. We'll take her home with us when we leave.” It would be good to have her back with the team; Steve was looking forward to doing some training with her.

“Well then, the band'll be back together,” Tony said. “Except for one storm god, and one large green member and one short, curly-haired smart guy.”

“I'm sure Fury's going to bring Bruce up. Or at least, our work in improving the Hulk's image.” If Fury didn't, then Steve planned to do so.

“Yeah. I'm going to send Fury one of the Hulk plushies. Maybe Hill, too.” Tony said, sounding absolutely sincere.

Steve laughed, and Tony grinned. Steve handed him back the package and Tony absently ate a few pieces of dried fruit.

“Oh. Cherries.” 

Steve laughed again and this time Tony joined him. Tony didn't hold onto grudges, it seemed. 

Tony yawned and slid down in his seat. “I'm gonna catch a few winks, Cap. Wake me when we get there.” He was asleep in less than a minute. 

Steve made his way up to the cockpit and slid into the co-pilot's seat. One of the things he was working on was getting certified to fly again. That would give them three pilots for the team, not just Clint and Natasha.

“How's our time and fuel, Clint?”

Clint glanced at the controls. “We've got more than enough of both to spare, if you're thinking what I'm thinking.”

Steve asked, “Are you thinking that we take the scenic route and let Tony sleep a little longer?”

“You're right on the money, Cap.”

“Let's do that, then. And let's keep it to ourselves.”

Clint shrugged. “Fine with me. Tony'll probably wonder why the flight took longer, though.”

“If he asks, I'll tell him the truth: that he looked like he could use the extra sleep. I just hope it won't start another argument between us.”

Clint looked intently at him for a long moment, a thoughtful look on his face. “Well... Depends on how you make it sound. If he thinks you did it because otherwise he's a sleep deprived menace to the team, then yeah. He's gonna go into Tony Stark attack mode. The insults will be flying by so fast that they'll break the sound barrier.”

Steve made a rueful expression. Tony could gut you with his wit and by the time you figured out just how badly he'd insulted you, he'd left you behind in the dirt. He'd done it on the helicarrier when they'd first met and again when he'd returned from his solo mission. 

Clint glanced at him and nodded his head slowly. He said, “But I understand that this is the real deal; you know he works his ass off for the team and S.H.I.E.L.D. and that letting him sleep is something you could do back for him.”

“Yes. You got me figured out.” Steve rubbed an eyebrow thoughtfully. “Any other advice?”

Clint gave him a sideways look. “Um... smile at him like you were earlier. He'll be kind of flustered again that way and probably won't get defensive. People always want things from Tony. He's not really used to it being the other way around, except from his real friends. Pepper, Rhodes, his chauffeur. And living up to Captain America's standards can be kind of intimidating, Cap. Be Steve, be his friend.”

“You... You've got a knack for reading people, Clint.” Steve touched the controls, running a finger across the different instrument panels.

Clint grinned, “I kind of do. I'll tell you about it sometime.”

Steve brought his hand back to his lap. “'Be his friend.' That's what Miss Potts said, too.” Steve wanted that, anyway. Not just because of Howard, either. Tony was a lot of work, but Steve was sure his friendship would be worth it.

“She's had years to study him and figure him out. You got thrown in the deep end. But I think he's gonna learn to trust you and our team. I mean, he's let himself sleep right now. He trusts us to not hurt him or try to take the arc reactor out of his chest. For Tony, that's progress.” Clint made a slight course correction, while Steve considered his words. He needed to be patient with Tony, and not trigger the other man's defenses. 

“I suppose it is.” Steve waved at the instrument panel. “How about you give me a crash course on these, Clint.”

* * *

Clint had been right on the money about how to deal with Tony, Steve thought. After Steve had shaken him awake once they'd landed, Tony had checked his watch and his face had tightened. _Here we go,_ Steve had thought, but he'd smiled at Tony and patted his shoulder before saying anything to him.

Funny how changing one word from, “You needed the extra sleep” to “You _deserved_ the extra sleep,” had resulted in Tony looking up at him in puzzlement, instead of blowing up. Then he'd shrugged. 

“I was kind of tired. Thanks, Cap, but you didn't have to do that.” Tony's eyes were calm, his body relaxed. 

“Clint gave me some flying lessons, so it worked out for all of us. And we're still early to our meetings.”

Tony motioned for Steve to sit down and said quietly, “Clint hasn't been back here since he blew half the place up. Between him and Bruce they really did some damage. Before he has to go see his shrink, maybe we should do a walk through with him. You know his shrink wants him here to gauge how he's handling returning to the scene of his... not-crime.”

“That's a good idea, Tony. If Clint will go for it.”

Tony just raised his voice. “Hey! Robin Hood.”

Clint turned around in the pilot's seat. “What, Stark?”

Steve stood up and Tony followed him, his Iron Man suitcase in one hand and his tablet in the other. Steve grabbed the bag that held his shield. He was dressed in civies, but leaving his shield behind was not optional. Clint stood up as they walked up to him.

“We wanna be your Merry Men,” Tony offered.

Clint stared hard at Tony for a moment and then glanced up at Steve.

“And what exactly will my Merry Men be doing?” Clint asked, wary.

“Clint, we--” Tony interrupted him.

“We're gonna hang with you till your shrink can see you. Go on safari, check out the jungle, that sort of thing,” Tony offered nonchalantly. 

“That sort of thing... Did I mention I'm supposed to walk through the helicarrier with my shrink so she can see if I'm going to have flashbacks, or fall down weeping?” Clint said, making a face.

“No, but that's why your appointment is here, isn't it?” Tony said, serious for once.

“So you guys'll be my posse? Do a run through first, just us?” Clint quirked an eyebrow, inviting a response.

“Yes. If you want us to be with you.” Steve said.

“Well, okay. But you have to wear tights and feathered caps.” Clint gave them a mischievous grin, but Steve saw past that. Clint's eyes were showing trepidation. 

Tony gave Clint a friendly nudge with an elbow as Steve arched an eyebrow and said, smiling, “Not a chance, Clint. We ready?”

 

* * *


	8. Welcome Back to the Helicarrier

“He's got a lot of nerve, showing up here after what he did. God damn Hawkeye.” Several of the other men and women sitting in the break-room agreed, cursing Clint for almost bringing down the helicarrier. Steve felt his mouth tighten. Walking by, Clint hadn't heard their words through the floor to ceiling glass, but he'd seen the glares from the group of agents. This bunch was only the latest to direct hate filled looks at one of their own. Clint was so shut down that Steve couldn't see any trace of the man who delighted in terrible movies and practical jokes. 

This was Hawkeye, controlled, focused, on guard during a mission in enemy territory. Steve caught Tony's eye. He pointed a thumb at the group and said, “I'll catch up to you.”

He entered the break-room and walked over to the group of five, cups of coffee and sandwiches on their table. He doubted that they realized their comments had been audible to him. The super-soldier serum had gifted him with extraordinary hearing, but that wasn't well known.

He was greeted with smiles, the three men and two women getting to their feet. 

“Captain, it's a real honor.”

“Captain Rogers, sir.”

“I'm going to tell my grandkids some day that I met Captain America. Would you like some coffee, a sandwich?” 

“How can we help you, sir?” Steve placed the bag containing his shield on an empty table, waved at the chairs and snagged one from an empty table. He turned it around backwards and sat down on it, resting his arms on the back. The group settled again, and Steve knew they were a little awestruck. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents weren't immune to the Captain America legend. Even Phil Coulson hadn't been, and by all accounts he was a cool customer.

Steve looked around the group, catching each person's eye. “I stopped because I heard what you said about one of your own. A prisoner of war. One who still managed to subvert the enemy's intentions as much as he could. A man who went out to battle that enemy, still feeling the effects of being injured. Without Clint Barton's help, the battle of Manhattan might not have been won.”

“Barton? He almost killed us all, that rat bastard.” It was the thin fellow whose words had first caught Steve's attention.

“It was Iron Man and the others who saved us. You saved us,” an auburn-haired man said, waving a hand towards Steve.

“All Barton did was shoot his damn arrows. _Arrows._ Against those monster whale things, was he kidding? S.H.I.E.L.D. should kick him out. He's a joke.” The black-haired woman who spoke wasn't smiling any longer at Steve. She looked livid.

Steve felt his face harden into stern lines. “Agent Barton was captured and his skills used for Loki's purpose, that's true. It doesn't make it his fault. The damage he did here was considerable. You all have had ample proof of that. Once he was freed of Loki's mind control, Hawkeye used all of those same considerable talents in defeating him. I witnessed his courage, his ability to take in the whole battlefield and direct the fight so the team had the advantage. He saved civilians and fought like a holy terror against the Chitauri, with no regard to his own personal safety.”

He looked each one of the agents in the eyes, although most them looked away or down. “You're S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. If you don't want to take my word that Clint Barton is a hero, then do your own research. I'm proud to call him a fellow Avenger and I trust him with my life.”

“He killed agents here. He killed my friends,” the black-haired agent bit out. 

“And I'm sorry for your losses, Agent. There's no one who regrets what happened here more than Agent Barton. Imagine being forced to do what he was forced to do. And remember this. He took out one engine. One. He could have easily taken out all of them. He fought against his orders from Loki as much as he could, to mitigate what he was being _forced_ to do. He deserves your respect, not your scorn. Good day, Agents.”

Steve nodded his head to them as he got to his feet. He didn't know if he had changed their opinions, but maybe he'd planted some doubts in their heads. You didn't become a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent without being smart and capable. If they stopped going on hearsay and actually looked into what had occurred then maybe they'd stop blaming Clint for something he couldn't control. He expected that there were similar attitudes about Bruce Banner being circulated among the agents. After all, the Hulk had also seriously damaged the helicarrier.

Turning at the door, he said, “Just to make it clear, the Avengers also consider the damage Bruce Banner did as the Hulk as not being his fault. He, too, was under Loki's influence. Iron Man is alive because Bruce chose to fight with us. The Hulk was extraordinary that day. Bruce Banner is an Avenger, too.”

The black-haired woman lifted her chin. “Banner's in the wind. He ran out on the Avengers.”

Steve shook his head. “That's not true. He left, yes, but it was to protect us from becoming entangled in potential legal problems, if he associated with us. Hopefully, that won't come about and he'll be able to safely return. He belongs with the Avengers.”

He looked at their faces, some looking a little shamed, some with angry expressions still. He nodded to them again, and said something he'd heard Natasha say before. “Thank you for your cooperation.” 

He picked up his shield bag, slung it on his back, and strode away. Out of sight, but not hearing range, Steve listened to Tony telling Clint he'd buy him some Old Bardstown Gold when they returned to Manhattan. 

* * *

They'd left Clint with his shrink, a tall woman wearing a thoughtful expression, her black hair divided into many small braids. 

“Agent Barton, come with me.” Her voice had the Jamaican lilt he'd heard many a time back in Brooklyn, from street vendors and from people in small groceries. It made him feel a little homesick, for just a moment, to hear her. 

Clint gave them a casual wave. “See ya later.” He hadn't broken down during their stroll through the helicarrier's wide blue-gray hallways. He looked composed, if rather grim, his emotions under control. 

He knew enough about Clint to know that the psychiatrist had her work cut out for her if she was going to be trusted with Clint's true feelings about what Loki had done to him. Clint's demeanor was misleading. Steve had a feeling very few people saw the side of Clint Barton that his fellow teammates did. Clint trusted them enough to relax with them and put away the professional agent and just be Clint Barton, practical joker with a penchant for seeing people's true natures. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. had honed Clint's skills until he'd become one of their best agents. Fury had said he was one of the sharpest men he knew, and Fury only hired the best for S.H.I.E.L.D. Steve knew that much at least about S.H.I.E.L.D. He'd asked questions; he'd learned what he could. It was strange to read about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s origins since Howard and Peggy had helped form it; there was proof that S.H.I.E.L.D. had gone for quality people right from the start. 

It wasn't surprising that he kept thinking so much about Howard, since he was walking alongside of Howard's son. And yet, despite sharing similar features, Tony was very different from his father. He had to remember not to compare Tony to his father out loud; Howard had been a great friend, but it seemed he'd been an awkward father. Tony was kind of sore about his old man. 

Tony chattered idly as they walked along. Steve was amused at the contrast between how Tony had been so focused on his work flying here and how now his attention jumped from one topic to the next depending on what he saw or what flew into his head. 

“Sushi tonight. Wait. Do you even know what that is, Cap?”

“I know it's food.” Steve nodded to an agent who was walking towards them. “Or maybe alcohol? I heard some agents talking about stopping at a sushi bar after I was revived.”

Tony grinned. “Oh, this is great! You'll love it. It's Japanese and I guess it was after WWII that Americans started getting into it. It's raw fish and rice dishes.”

Steve raised his eyebrows and Tony casually smacked him on the belly with his tablet. “It's good. Trust me. Kurumazushi, down on 47th Street, they make the best sashimi. They don't normally do takeout, but they do for me.” 

“I do, you know.”

Tony said, “You do what?”

“Trust you.”

Tony was silent for a moment, his eyes startled. “Okay, too much touchy-feely, well without the touchy part and I reserve the right to troll you like a huge, green troll, and speaking of big and green I'd probably seduce Mr. Humanitarian into helping me, because I'm awesome like that, but essentially, yes, ditto.”

Steve waded through that comment. “So... you just said that I made you feel a little uncomfortable but that I can trust you. Except to play jokes on me, and you'd get Bruce to help you, if he was here. And ditto? You trust me, too.”

“Give the man a gold star. No wait, you've already got a star.” Tony looked pleased with his own wit, and Steve rolled his eyes. 

“How about you feed me sushi, instead.”

“No. No-no-no. Committed relationship, remember? No hand feeding Captain America tasty morsels.” Tony waggled a finger at him.

Steve laughed. Tony was something else, the way whatever he was thinking would just fly out of his mouth. “Tony. I just meant eating dinner tonight from that restaurant you mentioned. Not you feeding me with your _fingers_.”

“Oh. Well, okay, but you know, that was a hot image. I'll share it with Pepper.” He winked at Steve.

“Tony.”

“What? She's a fan of yours. She actually likes me. It could work.” Tony was grinning so widely that Steve couldn't help but grin back at him, the goofball.

“Some things I don't need to know about, Tony.”

Tony mock pouted. “Well, you're no fun.”

“I can live with that,” Steve answered, the smile still on his face. “So, rumor has it that you've been working on multiple models of the Iron Man suits.”

“Barton's big mouth, right? Yeah. Come down to my workshop sometime and I'll give you the nickel tour.”

“I'd like that.”

* * *

Tony walked onto the helicarrier's bridge like he belonged there. He strolled between the rows of stations, peering over shoulders to make comments about the data being shown there. He frowned at one monitor and motioned for the chair's occupant to get up. The man looked perplexed and glanced at Assistant Director Hill. She nodded and the youngster gave Tony his seat. Tony cracked his fingers, obviously showing off, and started typing. The screen went dark. Tony typed some more, and then it came back to life. That was re-booting, Steve thought. He was getting pretty good at using the darn computers, much like somebody learning to drive a car. He didn't know much about what was under the hood, though. Tony was like Smitty, in his old neighborhood. There wasn't anything Smitty didn't know about cars and trucks and he could fix anybody's sad sack of a vehicle. 

Tony had fixed whatever was wrong on the screen, because now the colors were right and the way the screen had dimmed and then brightened had stopped.

Tony let the agent sit back down and walked over to Hill. She arched her eyebrows. 

“No charge, Assistant Director.”

“Stark.” 

“A 'thank you' would be nice,” Tony wheedled. 

She cocked her head at him a little, studying him. “Agent Garcia, pull up the footage of the bridge when the nuke was aimed at Manhattan and project it.”

Tony held his hands out. “Oh, let's not. So, where's Fury?” He walked over to the command platform and put one hand over an eye. He pivoted, looking at the consoles and then shook his head. “I could make this more workable.” He frowned and Steve knew he was lost in his head, re-designing the command center.

Tony jumped when Fury said behind him, “It's fine the way it is. You want to remove yourself from my post, Stark?” 

Tony let his hand drop back down. “I'll work something up, we'll talk.” He stepped off the dais, and suddenly a large screen appeared in the air, and Steve saw the helicarrier's bridge, but with agents out of their chairs huddled over monitors and the expressions on their faces – shock, horror, tension. People were biting their lips and some were holding onto each other.

There was a close-up of a monitor. Steve saw the nuke heading straight for the city, and then Iron Man was there grappling with it, changing its trajectory, flying it up into the portal with its eerie blue haze. Then both Iron Man and the missile were gone. Tony had saved New York from being turned into a wasteland. He'd seen pictures of Hiroshima after the atom bomb had been dropped there. He shuddered to think of the death and devastation Tony had prevented.

Like watching a film, Steve saw everybody on the projection cheering and hugging, and some crossing themselves like he'd been taught to do by his mother when going to Mass. 

He glanced at Tony and then looked more closely at him. Tony had gone white. He shoved his hands in his pockets but Steve had seen them trembling first. His eyes were wide and Steve didn't like what he saw in them. Steve moved closer to Tony, who was breathing too fast. He touched Tony's arm.

“Tony?” he murmured, low enough so only the two of them would hear. “Are you all right?”

Tony didn't say anything. Steve caught Hill's eye. “Assistant Director, that's enough.”

Hill glanced over at the two of them. “Stark, our thanks. Agent Garcia, shut it down.”

“No!” Tony counter-ordered. “Let's see this through. Garcia, fast forward to when I reappear.” He was still pale, but he sounded determined. His breathing was slowing down.

Tony said to Hill, a slightly suspicious expression on his face, “Assuming that you thanking me wasn't just you being facetious--” 

“It wasn't. I thought you deserved to know that your actions were appreciated,” Hill said. 

“So you guys weren't cheering that I wasn't gonna be a thorn in your sides anymore? I mean, obviously,” Tony looked straight at Fury, “Nobody with a _brain_ wanted to nuke Manhattan, but--”

Fury interrupted Tony, turning a little so he could look him in the eye. “Stark, I'm only going to say this once, so pay attention. S.H.I.E.L.D. considers you an asset. I consider you an asset. Now don't you have work to do?” He beckoned to a red-haired agent, who got to his feet. “Michaels, escort Mr. Stark to Engineering.”

Tony pointed to the screen. A red and gold blur was plummeting towards the ground. “I don't remember falling.” 

The roomful of agents, Fury, Hill, and Steve all watched the image of Tony plummeting down, and even though Steve knew what happened, his heart started beating faster. He could hear some of the agents holding their breath. 

Waiting.

And then the Hulk made that tremendous leap and caught Tony, who hung limp in his arms, and turned and twisted his huge body so that Tony was protected as they made their rough landing.

The screen went dead. Tony turned, staring at the agents as he did. “Bruce Banner saved me. He helped save all of us. He shouldn't be hunted down and caged.”

Hill raised her eyebrows. “Doctor Banner can't always control what happens when he transforms, Mr. Stark. We've all seen the damage he did here, and it's only by the grace of God that the pilot he threw out of the jet wasn't hurt. Banner is a mixed blessing.”

Tony opened his mouth, his eyes narrowing, and Steve said softly to him, “Let me.”

Tony shot him a look, but closed his mouth, arms crossing on his chest.

Steve said, letting his voice carry. “I could tell you all a story of a man who was betrayed by a leader he should have been able to trust. Or I could list how this compromised man has done his best to control the damage done to him, despite being alone and hounded by his own people. I could explain how he dedicates his time to helping others in need, and counts himself content with that, giving up dreams he'd once held for his life.”

Hill shifted as if to make a comment, but Fury unobtrusively held up a hand, and she stilled.

Steve glanced around at his audience and he knew he was “knockin'em dead” as the USO girls used to say. He looked squarely at Fury. “I can place the blame for his losing that control squarely where it belongs, on Loki. But he wouldn't. And the deaths and destruction that are laid at his feet? He carries that with him, too. Unfairly, since he was the one first attacked. Always.” 

Steve shook his head. “Bruce Banner doesn't think very highly of himself. But the truth is that he's a hero. Even before Loki and the Chitauri invaded, he saved countless lives in Harlem by putting down the Abomination. He's an Avenger. And the Avengers are going to do everything in our power to make it safe for him to return.” 

There was silence and then Fury broke it by ordering, “Captain, let's talk. Hill, you're with me. Quartermain, you've got the bridge.” Fury stepped down and a tall, well-built man with dark blond hair stepped on the dais, and studied the readings on the monitors. 

Stark--” Fury said, but Tony interrupted him. 

“Nice speech, Cap. And umm, ditto. Did everybody get that?” Tony pointed his thumb towards Steve. “What he said. Oh, and complimentary Hulk plushies for everybody.” 

Fury leveled a glare at Tony. “Stark, go be a genius and fix my boat. Agent Michaels, stay with Mr. Stark, make sure he gets anything he needs.”

Grinning, Tony put an arm around Michaels' shoulder, after he walked stiffly over to Tony. “Genius power runs on caffeine, Agent Michaels. I want a Dead Eye.”

“A dead eye,” Steve heard Michaels say without any expression, as he and Tony headed for the bridge exit.

Tony sniggered. “Well, I'm not asking you to steal Fury's glass eye. Wait? Does he have one? I mean, all I've ever seen is the eye patch. No, I want a triple espresso dumped into a regular cup of coffee. No cream or sugar.”

Michaels nodded. “You'll get your caffeine, Iron Man.” 

They left and Steve followed Fury and Hill into a conference room off the bridge. 

Hill shut the door and Fury said, “Take a seat, Captain.” Fury and Hill settled at the table. Steve slid the bag containing his shield off his back and leaned it against the table leg and sat down, his back ramrod straight. 

“That was quite the speech you gave out there. I hear that it wasn't the only one you've given since coming on board.” Fury narrowed his eye. “What are you trying to accomplish?”

“Exactly what it seems, Director.” 

Maria Hill glanced at him and then at Fury. “Sir, there's been mixed reactions to Barton remaining an agent. The Psych staff's projection is that Barton will leave S.H.I.E.L.D. if the level of animosity towards him doesn't decrease.” 

Fury looked at Steve. “And you think Captain America showing support for Barton is gonna change that.”

Steve gave both a level gaze, needing to convince them. “Not just me. All of the Avengers. A show of support and trust towards him from you both would help, too.”

Steve remembered how having Bucky publicly stick up for him had cut back on the jeers and attempts to get rough with him. But Bucky hadn't just championed him; he'd been Steve's friend and other kids had accepted him because of that. He didn't see why the same sort of thing wouldn't work for Barton and Banner.

“I'll take it under advisement, Captain,” Fury said. From the impatience in Fury's voice and the way he'd raised his eyebrows Steve had the feeling that maybe he'd been preaching to the choir. “But all the good will and support in the world isn't going to help keep Doctor Banner safe. I want you to send him a message, the way he described in his video. He needs to come in now.”

“Why?” 

“Politics, Captain.”

“Politics. What exactly do you mean?” Steve wasn't unaware of what Fury was alluding to, but he wanted to hear what the head of S.H.I.E.L.D. had to stay in his own words.

Fury said mildly, “S.H.I.E.L.D. is under a deadline before controlling the Hulk is taken out of our hands, and it's rapidly approaching. The Council has made a decision. S.H.I.E.L.D. is not going to contest losing authority of the Hulk problem when it's handed over. But.” Fury looked at him with intensive impatience. “We can make a contract between Doctor Banner and us stick, if we do it soon. Very soon, Captain.”

“Are you referring to General Ross and his Bio-Tech division?” Steve frowned. Nothing he had learned about Ross boded well for Bruce. 

“Yes,” Fury said. “Banner's fears are justified when it comes to Ross. I told Banner he needed our protection and that's more true every day he's out there on his own. We prove the Hulk does as we ask, then we can protect him. It will quiet down those groups who see him as just a loose cannon.” 

“Sir,” Maria Hill said, her voice careful and precise and without any sympathy. “That's exactly what he is. S.H.I.E.L.D. will need a way to control the Hulk for the public to accept that he's not dangerous to them.”

“We'll get him his own personal guru, then,” Fury replied. Hill just crossed her arms.

Fury turned to Steve. “He doesn't have to work on weapons. If fact, I don't give a damn if he doesn't do anything in the lab except paint his toenails. Hell, he can take some shifts as a MD for us, if he wants. He can be your team's doctor, and if the Hulk isn't needed he can be your medic in the field. I don't care. Just get him back here, Captain.”

“And if I contact him and he still says no? What then, Director?”

“Protective custody,” Fury said, deadpan.

“After what he did for this world?” Steve asked, quietly.

Fury looked at him almost regretfully. “Because of what he did for this world, Captain.” 

“That's the reward Banner gets for putting himself on the line? Going into a cage?” Steve put all the disgust he felt into his voice.

“Caging Banner is a last resort. And if he doesn't start cooperating, he'll be the one putting himself in a cage, Captain. The Hulk was just a monster at first. The Army made him and they could clean up their own damn mess.” Fury glanced at Hill, and then back at him. “Things changed after he fought the Army at Culver and the Abomination in Harlem.”

“Why?” Steve laid his hands flat on the table, pressing down as if that could keep his anger contained.

“Hydra, our government, the Council... could see that the monster could direct his rage and fight intelligently. But maybe that had been a fluke.” Fury's voice turned even more sardonic. “Fighting the Chitauri proved otherwise. The berserker could follow orders, coordinate with a team. His stock as a weapon shot up.”

“And S.H.I.E.L.D. wants the Hulk to be their weapon,” Steve said flatly.

Fury raised an eyebrow. “Better us than any of the others. So yes, and swallow down the distaste I see on your face. You're a soldier; you know what war is like. It's not clean, is it, Captain?”

“Banner's a good man, sir. He doesn't deserve to be conscripted.” Bruce already had to live with the accidental deaths. Forcing him to deliberately kill and maim others at the whim at whoever was holding his leash would destroy him. 

“I know he's a good man. That doesn't change anything. And you come from a time when conscription was needed. I know you understand the necessity of drafting people,” Fury said, raising an eyebrow.

“In times of war.”

“You think we're not at war?” Fury's voice sharpened, “For all we know, the Battle of Manhattan was just the first skirmish. And Hydra, your old enemy? Still out there, doing a hell of a lot of damage. And there's more than those two. Updating you and your team on them is part of the reason for this briefing, Captain.” 

Steve shook his head slowly. “As I understand the law, America doesn't draft people into the services anymore.” 

“Ah,” Fury said. “Banner worked for the military. There's a clause in his contract that allows him to be drafted as needed. That can interpreted to include the traditional services, as well as S.H.I.E.L.D. I doubt he realizes that. He probably didn't read the fine print carefully enough. And 'consultant' can be broadly interpreted. He'll be 'consulting' for Ross strapped down to a lab table.”

“I'm going to have Mr. Stark's lawyers look into that document, Director.”

Fury shrugged. “You think we haven't had Legal take a look? No, Captain, Banner's choices are narrowing. If he's not kidnapped by Hydra, or other interested parties, he's going to end up in voluntary or involuntary custody with us, or involuntary with Ross.” 

“He'll fight you,” Steve said. “And them.” 

“Which is why I want you and your team to get him to join us _voluntarily._ I want him working with your team, Captain. Solo missions, well, we'll see.”

“If Bruce feels coerced into fighting, I don't think you can count on the Hulk to do your dirty work. Or fight with the Avengers.” Steve shrugged. “The Hulk might just run away.”

“Which is why I want him with the Avengers.” Fury pointed one long finger at Steve. “He won't leave his team to face trouble without him.”

“Sir,” Hill said, her face tight and professional. “Banner was only with the team for a few days, and some of that he was sleeping off the transformation. It's a pretty big assumption that he'll feel any loyalty to the Avengers.”

Fury nodded towards Steve. “I think it's plain that the Avengers feel loyal to him. I'll gamble that it's reciprocal.”

“Sir,” Hill said.

“The Hulk caught Iron Man. Banner left to protect Stark and the others from being charged with helping him. He cares about them; we can use that,” Fury said.

Steve lifted his chin. “Director, if you can get Doctor Banner amnesty from any past charges without his having to join S.H.I.E.L.D., and get that previous contract nullified, then the team will consider contacting him. Mr. Stark will want to have his lawyers look hard at anything that's offered in writing to Doctor Banner, though.”

Fury narrowed his eye. “If Banner comes in and signs up, then we'll see about the amnesty and throwing out his old contract.”

Steve held out his hands. “I think we're at an impasse, sir.”

“Think about it. But don't take too long. The clock is running out on the good doctor.”

Steve nodded. This was a hell of a mess. But Bruce had made his choice and so far nothing was different from Fury's previous offer, except for stating Bruce didn't have to work on weapons. He'd discuss this with the team, but he didn't think Fury's offer warranted going against Bruce's express wishes.

Hill said, “Captain Rogers.” He looked at her, and her fingers touched a computer interface. Suddenly there were several screens simultaneously showing a destroyed area, fire raging and a red and gold blur streaking away; a video of an explosion in a city, and several of men and women with information printed under their pictures.

Fury pointed to the screen with Iron Man. “Ten Rings has renewed their vendetta against Tony Stark, since he blew up another one of their weapons cache. Alone.”

“Tony feels very strongly that going after his weapons that were sold to the wrong hands is his business. Not an Avengers mission.”

“Is that your opinion, Captain?” Fury asked.

“No. At the least, the team would want to be there for backup.”

Fury's expression became sardonic. “So work on Mr. Stark's, 'I'll do it myself' attitude. Let's move on to what Hyrdra's been up to lately.”

* * *

Steve slowed his steps when he heard Maria Hill bring the Hulk back up to Fury after Steve had left the briefing. People, and apparently the two he'd just left, tended to forget that he also had enhanced senses, besides enhanced muscles. Maybe his mother would have told him it wasn't polite to eavesdrop, but this concerned a member of his team. He was fine with listening in on a conversation that had been delayed until he'd left the room.

“Sir,” Hill said. “My earlier point stands. The Hulk is a loose cannon. He was cooperative during the Chitauri attack, but what if Banner's having a bad day? If Tony Stark annoys Banner, will the Hulk flatten him? I don't think anybody, not even Banner, can predict what the Hulk is going to do.”

“We've got something in mind that will stop the Hulk dead in the water if he goes rouge. The R and D boys have put together some prototypes and are testing them now.” Fury sounded pleased.

“How? Without the Hulk here--” Hill was a good second in command, Steve thought, asking questions, looking for problems.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. has the blood samples from Banner that Sterns was using,” Fury said. “And using adamantium syringes should work. The research is kept on secure computers, not networked. And speaking of being secure...” 

Suddenly white noise cut out any further conversation between Hill and Fury, but Steve had heard enough. S.H.I.E.L.D. was developing a drug that could stop the Hulk.


	9. Natasha Returns From a Mission

“Agent Romanoff, I've read your report. I have a few questions.” Hill waved her to a seat in the debriefing room. 

Natasha made sure that her movements were fluid as she crossed the room, pushing back a wave of exhaustion. Bruce Banner used mantras to help him face the world. She had one, too. “Never let them know you have a weakness.” When she left Hill she would return to Stark Tower, find Barton, let herself slump against him and finally stand down. 

Barton wasn't part of “them.” He was “us.”

She elaborated on her report, and they discussed the direction the Hand was taking, and what countermeasures S.H.I.E.L.D. could put in place to monitor and nullify their strategies. 

“Good work, Agent,” Hill said coolly. “You'll return to your primary assignment with the Avenger's Initiative. Some of them are on board; they should be returning to Manhattan within a couple of hours.”

“Which ones are here?” She stifled the urge to yawn. 

“Captain Rogers, Agent Barton, and Stark. Barton is seeing a psychologist, and Stark is doing engineering. Captain Rogers met with Fury earlier, but he's on his own time now.”

“Is that all, then, Assistant Director?”

“No.” Hill said.” “Agent, S.H.I.E.L.D. is aware of the stand the Avengers have taken regarding Doctor Banner. We know about the toys. We're watching the reaction to the Battle of Manhattan posters featuring Doctor Banner and the Hulk that Captain Rogers is giving away and his scheduled appearance to close the exhibit at the Met. We know he's planning on using that to do PR work about the Hulk. We're monitoring the websites, the interviews in the news media. We've got eyes on Stark's film project on Doctor Banner.”

Natasha arched an eyebrow. 

Hill leaned forward. “I want to know why. Why are the Avengers doing all of this?”

“Doctor Banner is an asset,” Natasha said, but she was doubtful that Hill would let such a pat answer go. 

Hill's mouth tightened. “That's a smokescreen answer. Of course he's an asset, but he was only with the Avengers for a few days. Why this intense loyalty towards him?”

Hill didn't think she shared in it. She expected Agent Romanoff, employee of S.H.I.E.L.D., to unlock the secret for her. 

She had done worse things in her life than trap a hunted man by using his own kindness against him. Still, what she witnessed had stayed with her. On the outskirts of a slum she had watched Banner turn his back to armed men in a vehicle and shelter the small urchin girl – the bait in Natasha's trap – and keep her from dashing out where she might have been run over. 

He'd tried to playact that he'd followed the child for a fistful of rupees, but she'd studied his file. Aiding that child had never been about the money.

He'd come back to Manhattan to help them, when his instincts must have been screaming for him to run.

She remembered touching her forehead to his and brushing a kiss over his lips before he left the tower to become a fugitive once again. 

Bruce Banner. And a promise she had made.

Natasha gave Hill a hard look. “You're forgetting something, Assistant Director Hill. I'm an Avenger. Banner is an Avenger. What you're asking me to report on is Avenger business. Take it up with Captain America. But don't expect me to spy on the Avengers for S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Hill's expression hardened. “You're dismissed, Agent.”

Natasha rose, nodded, and left the room.

Barton was here, facing down his demons. He didn't need her help; they were alike that way. She would give it to him anyway. She had the key to reaching him. She would share the memory of huddling in on herself after the Hulk had chased and hurt her. By telling him of the shock and fear that she'd felt, he would honor that confession by making his own to her. They would absolve each other of their sins.

* * *

She'd found Barton at the practice range, switching back and forth from a P-30 to her favorite, a Glock 26, to a M4A1 Carbine. He was finished now and looking over his scores. He'd never missed a target. 

He'd been griping ever since he'd pulled off his headphones. “And then after that excruciating counseling session that bent the time-space continuum, because it went on like, forever, Fury kept me twiddling my thumbs, dragging me along everywhere he went. Kept asking my opinion on stuff that I don't have anything to do with. What the fuck do I care about updating the curriculum for new trainees. I mean, what the hell, Tasha?” 

He turned in the weapons and they stepped into a long hallway. She blocked him from moving past her and punched him lightly on the shoulder. 

“Of course Fury values your thoughts. You're a top S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. And he was sending a message. You know that,” she said calmly.

Clint's demeanor changed and he dropped the indignant act. “Yeah. I know what Fury was doing. Judging by the looks I've gotten since I showed up here today, there's plenty of agents who'd cheer if I dropped off the edge of the helicarrier.”

“Clint, it wasn't your fault.”

“Right.”

“Come with me.” She nodded her head towards the exit.

“Funny. That's what my counselor said. I don't want to go for round two, Nat.” Clint rubbed two fingers over his right eyebrow, and she knew he was tired. 

She shrugged. “This isn't about you.”

“It's about you?”

“The Hulk. I've made my peace with Bruce. But here is where the nightmares live. He said he was afraid I saw his face in my nightmares, and he's right. I want to lay that to rest.” She kept her eyes on his, letting him in, letting him see her need, her... weakness.

“How can I help, Tasha?” Clint said quietly, acceptance in his eyes. Whatever she required, he would do it for her. Had done it for her. 

“I want to go there again, with you,” she answered, just as quietly. “Where Bruce and I were thrown during the explosion.”

Clint said bitterly, “My explosion. I set the Hulk loose.”

“Loki freed him.” It was the truth.

“I helped.” Clint didn't bother to keep the self-loathing out of his voice. He didn't have to pretend with her.

She gave him a sharp nod, because she wouldn't lie to him or sugarcoat the truth. That's how they worked, the two of them, brutal honesty and total acceptance. “Yes. You did. You weren't responsible for your actions, and Bruce wasn't responsible for changing.”

“You really believe that?” Clint looked skeptical. “Cause I don't. Well, about me. I believe Bruce couldn't help it. Poor bastard. You know, Loki shared his plan to turn the Hulk loose with me. Banner fascinated him.” Clint made air quotes and spoke in a fair imitation of Loki. “A beast that pretends he is a man.'”

“The helicarrier wasn't the first time I saw the Hulk. I was there at Culver, when Ross cornered him, and I saw the fight in Harlem. I knew when Coulson sent me after Banner what he was capable of becoming. Clint.” She paused. “He frightened me.”

“Does he still scare the pants off you, Nat? Cause it would be understandable.”

“I'd like to say no. I'm not sure that would be true,” she said wryly.

“Hulk or Bruce?”

“There is no difference, Clint.”

“Bruce thinks there is.”

She shook her head. “I keep the darkness in me hidden. So do you. For Bruce, his darkness is there for the world to see. He wants to distance himself from it. I understand that.”

“The other guy. He always calls the Hulk the other guy,” Clint said thoughtfully.

“I think he was torn while he was transforming. When I was trapped with him. ” She shut her eyes, remembering. When she opened them, Clint was looking at her with understanding, with acceptance. “He told me to run, and his voice was barely human. His eyes. He regretted what was going to happen before he'd even done anything.”

“What do you think he was regretting?”

“Feeling such resentment at me for shattering the illusion that he'd been free.” She stepped a little closer to Clint. “He agreed to come, because Bruce is a good man. But he didn't like it. I told him Fury didn't want the monster, but he never believed me about that.”

Clint laughed. “Like Bruce wouldn't figure out what that cage was all about.”

Natasha took his hand and squeezed it. “So come with me. I need to retrace what happened with Bruce. Feel it again and deal with it. You know what brought me out of falling apart after Thor started fighting with the Hulk?”

Barton shook his head. 

“You did. I went to find you and stop you. I wanted to save you.”

He grinned at her. “Which you managed just fine.” He rubbed the side of his head. “Very effective therapy you used, too. Just do me a favor?”

She tugged on his hand and he obediently fell into step beside her. Their hands separated when they exited the hallway. 

“What favor?” she finally asked him, her mouth pushing up into a reluctant smile. 

Clint beamed back at her. “Don't let my counselor in on the knocking me in the head therapy trick? 'Cause after dealing with me for a couple of hours, I think she'd have been okay with using it.”

 

* * *

Things were quiet on the flight home from the helicarrier. Clint let Cap fly the Quinjet, occasionally giving him some instructions.

Clint had unburdened himself to her, after she had relived the terror she'd felt as the Hulk had attacked her. His huge body had been incredibly fast as he chased her through the helicarrier's corridors, dropping from floor to floor. Catching her and throwing her against a wall. Standing over her, the back of his hand raised to her. He had paused like that, and then Thor had waded into the fight and she had escaped. After watching the Hulk fight the Chitauri, she had been puzzled about why the Hulk had waited to hit her. Kill her. Why had he done that? He could have easily ended her life with the first blow, but instead he had only stunned her.

Her honesty had been rewarded by Clint's halting description of what it had felt like to have his mind taken over. To feel such commitment and loyalty and love towards the alien who would conquer Earth, when a very small part of his mind had been screaming the entire time over his imprisonment within his own body. How he had felt when he'd been freed, knowing everything he'd done. Killing other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Giving Loki information that allowed him to take a man's eyeball from him. Recruiting former enemies to Loki's side. Crippling the helicarrier. How angry, how raped he'd felt. 

He ended his recitation by wiping the tears off his face, and she sat next to him, and caught his hands in hers. They stayed that way, quiet, holding hands until Clint was ready to leave. They spent the remainder of the time waiting for Stark to finish his business with Fury by working out, flipping each other and practicing acrobatic moves. Once, they'd gone undercover as circus performers performing high wire and trapeze and tumbling acts. Sometimes they joked that if they ever left S.H.I.E.L.D. they could always go back under the big top. 

She relaxed against the seat, and watched Stark, who was absorbed with his thoughts, working with his tablet, occasionally flipping through displays in the air.

He was truly a genius, and like Tesla, he had the ability to see complicated designs in his head, the minute details, to riffle through options and see the flaws, then redesign them. Natasha was in awe of his brain. She would never tell him that. Tony did not need people sending him messages that he was wanted, needed, because of how he could think. Or because of what he could give them. 

It seemed that even his father had only valued him because of that genius. He had taken credit for it, calling Tony his greatest creation. She thought that Howard Stark had meant that in a good way. She doubted that Tony had felt very loved because of it, though. She wondered how many times Tony had heard his father speak of him that way, to others, expounding upon it when Howard was drunk. 

She had been valued only for her skills, had never known what unconditional care felt like as a child. Or as an adult. Not until Clint had saved her. 

No, Tony needed to be appreciated for his efforts in becoming a better human being. For his sense of humor, for how he wanted to be a good partner to Pepper. For his intentions and efforts on finding solutions for world problems, for his daring and courage. She would show him approval of course; he was her teammate. She would not do it in such a way to continue the damage to him that had started when he was a toddler. 

She let herself close her eyes, staying in a light doze and considered asking Clint to have sex with her when they returned. They'd done it countless times before, mutual comfort only. She wasn't in love with him. He wasn't in love with her. She decided against it. Clint didn't need to be derailed from his attraction to Coulson. Maybe after Coulson and Clint had finished their courtship dance, she would explore whether comfort with Clint could continue without destroying what he was unwittingly building with Coulson. 

Thoughtfully, she considered her other teammates as bed partners. Tony. No. A hundred times no, for a hundred reasons. Steve. No. He was too young, too sincere. She didn't want a permanent partner and he was lonely. She wouldn't want to tempt him into falling in love with her. She thought about the two missing Avengers. Thor was... lusty. But he was involved already with Jane Foster, although if she was Foster she would have cut her losses. He was a god. Incredibly long-lived and who knew if Thor would even return before Jane Foster had added decades to her life. If not for the tie to Foster, Thor would no doubt accept Natasha as an occasional sexual partner without seeing it as any more than favors between fellow warriors, if she laid it out that way to him.

And then there was Banner. She could test herself, see if she could lose the last of her fear of him, hold his wrists down on the bed as she fucked herself on his dick. 

Would he let her? She didn't know. He avoided sex with people he cared about, but did that include her? 

She licked her lips and thought about Bruce Banner, his dark curly hair and his expressive eyes. He wasn't a big man, smaller than Tony and Clint, although his shoulders were broad enough. Unless he transformed, she was stronger than he would be. She could control him. She could move him as she desired, tease him until he was on the edge of anger, and then take him apart. He would look beautiful when he came. She would kiss him hard, whisper to him that he was a good fuck. She'd pinch his nipples, watch him suck in his breath. She'd make him recite equations while she would bring them both to a second climax, listen to his numbers and words become meaningless babble. When she was finished playing with him she would run her hand through his curls and he would thank her.

He would stumble from her bed with his wrists red and bruised, his eyes sleepy and sated. Claimed. But only for that night, with no promises for the future.

It would be good for her, to take him like that. But after Bruce's mind cleared from the haze of sex, would what they had done leave him feeling more lost than before? He wasn't quite “us,” not like Clint was, but he was within her circle of protection. She had promised to keep him safe. Taking him to bed might be safe for her, but not for him. Not stripping him down to bare bones. 

Bruce was a tightrope walker, striving for balance with every step of his life. Natasha hadn't “persuaded” him to come to the helicarrier with her to find the tesseract. He had never believed that S.H.I.E.L.D. only cared about the scientist, not the monster. He had come anyway. He'd thought he could keep his balance.

On the helicarrier, Bruce had flinched and ducked away from agents with guns stationed at exits, and that was futile, really. The entire place was filled with agents. By now the habit was ingrained in him, though. What happened to Bruce after the gamma accident had left him scarred, even if his body didn't show it.

Natasha knew how he'd kept rope in upstairs rooms for a quick escape. She knew the things he'd done that he'd probably never envisioned as choices he would have to make in order to stay free. She wondered what he had thought of himself the first time he'd had to swallow some man's come in exchange for being smuggled out of an area Ross was monitoring.

Bruce had remade himself in order to survive. They had that in common. 

She would seduce him the way she pictured, she decided, only if she told him first why she wanted him in her bed. He could choose to let her do to him all the things she fantasized about or he could give her that soft, wry smile and tell her no. If he said yes and then was unbalanced, then he would have been given fair warning.

Still this left her with no partner for the night; she didn't feel like seeking out any of her occasional lovers, so she would, like so much else in her life, take care of herself.


	10. Here Be Dragons

A man's tense voice emanating from the Quinjet's radio caught Natasha's attention. She pushed the button that reset her seat from inclined to normal, focusing on the cockpit where Clint was giving Steve flying instructions on their way back to Manhattan.

“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. Calling New York Center, New York Center, AAL-102 enroute to JFK, repeat, AAL-102, Boeing 777-300ER, enroute to JFK, but are aborting our descent. Under attack by a dragon, repeat, under attack by a dragon, sixty miles east of New York City, Flight Level 260. 100 minutes of fuel, 402 souls on board. Over.”

She heard a new voice from the radio, a little incredulous despite the professional tones. “Roger that, AAL-102, this is New York Center. American, repeat the nature of your emergency. Again, repeat the nature of your emergency. Over.”

“Tasha? Come swap seats with Cap?” Clint called back to her. She jumped up and ran forward, swiping her hand through Stark's calculations that were hanging in the air in front of his nose.

“Hey!” Tony yelled at her. 

Steve ran back towards Tony as she buckled herself in the co-pilots seat. She watched her teammates in the monitor that took in the passenger and cargo section of the jet. 

“Suit up, Tony,” Steve said, stripping off his flight jacket and shirt as he skidded to a stop in front of the alcove that held his Captain America suit.

Tony was out of his seat, arms held wide, as he stepped on the metal briefcase that held his traveling suit. 

She split her attention between monitoring her teammates, the cockpit readings, and the radio's new message. The pilot sounded grim but controlled. “New York Center, New York Center, this is AAL-102. Repeat. We are under attack by a dragon. I'm not kidding, it's huge and it keeps dive bombing us. I think it's trying to force us to land. Over.”

Clint flicked a switch and announced, “New York Center, AAL-102, this is Quinjet-03, responding to your Mayday. I repeat, this is Quinjet-03 responding to your Mayday. ETA approximately five minutes. New York Center, S.H.I.E.L.D. is monitoring and will also send assistance and will coordinate with the Air Force. Over.”

There were undertones of disbelief in the air traffic controller's voice. “New York Center to Quinjet-03. What assistance can you render? Assuming that AAL-102's pilot isn't hallucinating. Over.”

“Quinjet-03 to New York Center and AAL-102. Send us what you've got on the American's co-ordinates. And we're the Avengers. We'll figure it out when we get there. Over.” Clint grinned at her. “Take over for me, Nat.”

* * *

Natasha made a course adjustment as Clint slid back into his seat, his quiver and bow stashed in nearby reach. 

Behind the pilots seats, Steve was standing next to Tony. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him lay a hand on Tony's red and gold suit shoulder. “We'll be close enough for visual confirmation in about thirty seconds, Cap,” she reported. 

Tony announced, “I networked JARVIS to your comms and all the monitors, guys. He can send you whatever I'm seeing or hearing – cause I'm going out to play bait, right? And he's going to research dragons and shoot you the good intel.”

Steve said, “Orders, people. Assuming there's a real object out there attacking the airliner, yes, then Tony, you get its attention away from that plane. If it continues to be aggressive, then Natasha, when we're in range, you're up on weapons fire. Clint, try to herd it away from populated areas.” 

Just then, Clint whistled. “Take a look. If anybody at New York Center was betting that the pilot was fruit loops, they just lost a bundle.”

Natasha changed course so they were flying parallel to the American Airliner, but not too close to it. She raised an eyebrow at what she saw swooping and diving near the other jet, but really, after aliens and gods descending on Manhattan, she wasn't about to be awestruck because a mythical creature had appeared.

Clint, though, looked utterly fascinated. He mouthed, “Holy shit,” to her, before donning his professional persona again and speaking into the radio. “New York Center, New York Center, this is Quinjet-03, we have confirmed that there is a large dragon looking critter attacking AAL-102. Repeat, there is a large dragon looking critter attacking AAL-102. We're gonna try to get its attention away from the American. Over.”

The New York Center answered. “Quinjet-03, Roger that. We're re-routing air traffic so the skies are clear. Good luck, Avengers. Over.”

Clint said, “AAL-102, AAL-102, this is Quinjet-03. Be ready to get the hell out of Dodge when we sting that thing's tail. Over.”

The pilot responded, relief in his voice, and Steve strapped himself in, his shield secured on his arm. Tony ran to the back of the Quinjet into the cargo area, and Clint locked down the passenger area. He nodded to her, and she glanced meaningfully at the radio. 

Clint busied himself with reporting in to S.H.I.E.L.D., then updated the team. “Everybody, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s sending backup from Manhattan and from the helicarrier. War Machine's coming in from Hanscom.”

“On your mark, Clint.” Steve called from his seat.

Fidgeting by the cargo door, Tony crowed, “Rhodey's invited to the party? All right! Fireworks coming up for everyone.”

Natasha glanced at Clint and they shared a look of amusement as he took over piloting. She remembered Stark's party comment when he'd led a leviathan to them during the fight against the Chitauri. She arched an eyebrow and said dryly, “Let's hope this party ends on a better note than your birthday ones.”

“Hey,” Tony objected. “I'm reformed now. No more crazy antics.”

“Tony,” Steve said crisply.

“Yeah, Cap?”

“We could use some crazy antics. Go wild.” She could hear the smile in Steve's voice.

Clint hollered, “Go, Tony. Get'em, Tiger,” and opened the wide cargo doors.

They were blasted with stirring classical music, horns announcing a confrontation as Tony ran out the open back of the plane.

The doors closed after Tony had plummeted away, heading straight for the American. Clint grinned. “JARVIS, what's he playing?” 

“Der Ring des Nibelungen conducted by Hans Knappertsbusch, recorded in 1956. What Sir requested was Siegfried slaying the dragon Fafner, Clint.”

Steve smiled and shook his head. Wagner's Ring Cycle. No one could ever say that Tony Stark didn't have his own brand of style.

The music came to a crescendo and abruptly cut off. Clint called out, “He's there.”

Steve said, “JARVIS, let's get some closeups.” The image of the dragon filled the screen, its hide mottled patches of greens and blues and purples overlayed with a metallic sheen. 

They watched as Tony fired his hand repulsors at the dragon, angling his shot so the airliner was in no danger of becoming collateral damage.

The dragon whipped its long snake-like head around and shrieked. The dragon's scream made Natasha want to cover her ears, a headache blooming at the sound. 

“That thing's the size of three city buses,” Clint announced. “And ow. Man, it's giving me a headache.”

Steve grimaced. “Me too. JARVIS, what can you tell us?”

“Captain, the dragon is emitting sounds not only within normal human hearing range but also high into the ultrasound range, which cannot be heard but will still effect most people with nausea and headaches.”

“Iron Man, report,” Steve barked.

“I've got Puff's attention, Cap. It goes for me and then it tries to swing back to the airliner. I'm going to throw something stronger at it.”

Steve answered, “It's broadcasting in ultrasound--” 

“I'm on it.” Tony interrupted. “JARVIS, give us a two second buffer of anything from Puff's way and delete everything in the ultrasound range before transmitting it to me and the gang. I doubt you guys are close enough for the ultrasound to effect you without Jarvis transmitting.”

“Iron Man, are you experiencing any adverse effects from the ultrasound?” Steve asked. 

“Hang on.” They watched on the screen as Tony not only used his hands, but his suit arc reactor to blast the dragon. The dragon shrieked again and chased after Tony, who was twisting and turning and firing and leading it away from the airliner. 

Natasha glanced at Steve, and he answered her unspoken question. “I noticed, Widow.” 

Tony Stark, she thought to herself, made you want to kick his ass and hug him at the same time. Well, she'd kick his ass for not reporting his status. Steve could handle the hugs. On second thought, he'd want to kick Tony's ass, too.

Steve said briskly, “Clint, you ready?”

“Yep,” Clint drawled. “Nat, light the bastard up,” and he maneuvered their aircraft so that it was between the dragon and the airliner. 

“AAL-102, repeat, AAL-102, this is Quinjet-03. We're ready to fire. Fly like a bat outta hell when we shoot it. Over.” The airliner acknowledged Clint and she targeted the dragon, her finger poised over the canon control button. 

“Stark, heads up. Firing in five, four, three, two, and one,” Natasha announced and fired the laser cannon. The dragon's hind leg was hit. There was an explosion of light and a squeal from the dragon. It turned towards the Quinjet and she fired at it again. This time she hit it in the side, but again, the expected reaction of devastating fire didn't happen. It screamed at them and began descending. The American Airliner veered off and was soon safely out of sight.

“Ah, Widow, we're only smacking it,” Tony reported. “Whatever Puff's skin is made of, it's deflecting about ninety percent of what we're throwing at it. And Puff's still descending.”

“I think it wants to go to ground,” Clint said. “And we're currently flying over Albany.”

“Tony, did you copy that? And report your status.” Steve glanced at her and she gave a small shrug. Stark. Honestly. 

“You're such a worrywart,” Tony responded, sounding chiding. Then his voice softened. “I'm okay. And I'm on this. I'll get below and make it uncomfortable for it to go lower: Clint's gonna keep herding it towards?”

“Canada. Way out in the boonies, and then we'll let it land?” Clint asked.

“Yes. Maybe it's more hurt than we think. Natasha, don't fire directly at it, just warning shots to herd it along,” Steve said.

“Well, thanks for not frying my ass along with Puff's,” Tony quipped, and dove down below the dragon, firing a plasma burst from his hand. The dragon gave another high-pitched squeal and flew higher. Clint blocked it from heading East, and it flew towards the Northwest.

Clint nodded toward the instrumentation panel, catching her eye. He said, “Cap, we've got company coming for supper.”

“Quinjet, this is War Machine. I'm coming up on your six.” 

“War Machine, this is Quinjet-03, welcome to this shindig,” Clint said. 

Natasha listened to Steve updating Colonel Rhodes on their plan and what they'd learned about the dragon, and War Machine flew off to assist Tony. JARVIS networked him to filter out the ultrasound.

Two other Quinjets from the helicarrier and one from their Manhattan office also joined them, flying high and wide around them to form a perimeter in case the dragon broke free. 

Once they'd crossed into Ontario Province, well away from any small cities, Tony and Rhodes changed positions to fly parallel with the dragon. It began a rapid descent, and Clint began to descend also. The other three Quinjets stayed high, circling the area, ready to fire on the dragon if it tried to escape to the skies again.

“JARVIS,” Steve asked, “Tony said you'd compiled information on dragons. Can you brief us on anything that in legend helped to control or defeat them?”

“Yes, Captain. From legends, dragons could be appeased by giving them treasure or sacrifices. The tribute could be animals to eat or humans. Virgins were thought to especially please the dragon and keep it from destroying cities or villages.”

“No virgins around here,” Tony broke in, “unless? Cap?”

Natasha could see Steve roll his eyes. “I'm not eligible, Iron Man. Can we let JARVIS continue now?” 

“Really? You're not as pure as the driven snow? I want details. Lots of details,” Tony threw out, and Natasha smiled to herself. 

“Not a chance, Tony. JARVIS?” Steve said. 

“Heroes have defeated dragons with swords or spears, sometimes enchanted. A mixture of sulfur and tar that a dragon ingested made it so thirsty it drank too much water and exploded. A shiny shield reflected the mesmerizing effect of one dragon's eyes back onto itself, rendering it helpless to defend itself. Some were killed by piercing the thinner hide under wing and leg joints. A trap was set so that an overfed dragon was unable to jump over barrels that held stakes in them. The dragon impaled itself when it fell on the barrels. One hero slew a fearsome dragon by shooting an arrow up its anus.”

Laughing so hard he could barely speak, Tony said, “Hawkeye, there's your plan. Just wait until it takes a dump and then zing it with an arrow.”

Clint yelled back, “If I do, then I'm swearing you all to secrecy. I'm not gonna be known as Hawkeye, the up your butt dragon slayer.” Natasha gave a sigh. Grown men, and they were acting like they were ten-year-olds.

Clint still sounded amused when he updated Steve. “Cap, it's almost on the ground. I'm gonna land, okay?”

Nodding, Steve said, “Roger that. Widow, you monitor from the plane, keep it flight ready and keep the dragon targeted. Hawkeye, you and I will go out in an ATV, give Iron Man and War Machine a hand.”

Tony said, “JARVIS, show us the scans.” A display of the creature appeared in front of them. Natasha studied the areas designated with thinner hide. As in the legends, the joints between the neck and the shoulder, under the large leathery wings, and in between the legs and body were more vulnerable.

Clint asked, “Cap, are we killing it?”

Steve said, “I don't know if it's sentient or not. If it makes gestures of submission, hold off and we'll re-evaluate. But if it attacks, use lethal force. Iron Man and War Machine, please acknowledge.”

Tony and Rhodes rogered Steve's orders, and Natasha took over flying from Clint. He grabbed his bow and quiver and he and Steve wheeled out an ATV from a storage unit. She called S.H.I.E.L.D. to update their status and had JARVIS send the visuals. The corner of her mouth quirked up a tiny bit when she pictured Fury's patented look of irritation at the situation, and Coulson's implacable manner broken occasionally by the slightest hint of awe that the Avengers had fought a dragon.

Opening the cargo doors while landing the plane, Natasha could see the dragon on the ground. As soon the plane skidded to a stop, Steve and Clint gunned the ATV towards it as it screamed and flapped its wings, circling between Tony and Rhodes hovering above the ground.

Then it started running fast at Rhodes, its four clawed feet leaving impressions in the torn up ground. Rhodes shot up in the air and fired plasma from his boots at the dragon's head. It shivered and readied itself to leap after Rhodes. 

Tony blasted it in the tail. It turned to see this new annoyance and Clint drew out an arrow. He aimed for where shoulder met neck, and let it fly.

It stuck in the creature's hide like a porcupine needle. Clint rapidly shot three more arrows into the joint, but they remained embedded until the dragon used its long neck and plucked them out. 

Cap tried his shield, hurling it at where the wing met its body. The sharp edge left a gash and bright turquoise blood welled up and started dripping down the dragon's side.

The dragon tried to fly straight up, but fell back to the ground.

Clint readied a new arrow. “Okay, that hurt it. Cap, I'm gonna try and hit where you gashed it. I'll use a vibranium head. Crap, Tony!”

Natasha, watching, frowned. Tony was being reckless; he was too close to the creature. Hovering in front of its triangle head, Tony held up his hands in an “I'm backing off” gesture. Thanks to the camera in Tony's suit she could see the thick scales on its head and body in detail. They were beautiful but overall the creature was ugly, with its long neck and short legs. It seemed ungainly.

Tony said, in a placating tone, “Hey, Puff. If you just lay down, we'll let bygones be bygones. Do you understand me? Lay down and we won't hurt you. What are you anyway, an alien? Can you read my mind?”

The dragon spit a long stream of liquid from its mouth at Tony. A good bit of it landed on his suit even though he flew rapidly backwards.

“Stay back from it, Iron Man. You gave it a chance to give up, but it's clearly hostile,” Steve ordered.

Tony was swearing and suddenly he was on the ground and the suit was unfolding. “Watch out. That was acid he spit, and it's strong enough to dissolve a Titanium alloy. It's not Nitric or Chromic Acid. It's something new to me.”

“Are you all right, any on your skin, any fumes bothering your lungs or eyes?!” Steve snapped out.

“I'm okay, but I need to get the suit into an acid proof container. There's some on the Quinjet,” Tony said. “I want to get this stuff analyzed. It's an incredible solvent.”

Steve drove quickly over to where Tony was standing, Rhodes between him and the dragon. “Get in. You're too vulnerable without the suit.”

Tony stripped off his long-sleeved T-shirt and dropped it near the smoking suitcase. He clambered into the ATV, and Steve moved them back to a safer distance. 

Tony sighed and plucked at his white sleeveless undershirt. “We're gonna have to treat the ground here as a hazmat spill.”

Clint frowned. “Tony, you should take a shower right now. Standard first aid for an acid spill.” 

Tony looked himself over. “I don't have any on me. But I'll do that after we handle Puff. I wish Bruce was here. The Hulk could hogtie Puff like a calf getting branded.”

“What about the acid?” Clint pointed out.

Tony waved off his concern. “Hulk's skin is pretty resistant to acid. Ross tried that with him. Even Hydrofluoric Acid – and that stuff is pretty deadly – didn't really damage him. It just made him madder.” 

The dragon was keening now, continuously giving out that high-pitched wail. 

Tony said, “Ow. My head. JARVIS can't help with the ultrasound now.” He pointed at the dragon, “You know, maybe Puff's mostly scared. I mean, where the hell did he come from? Maybe he's just reacting to a new strange world.”

“Tony,” Clint said. “He's not a stray you can take home. He's dangerous. He could have crashed that airliner.”

Steve said, “For now, we'll just keep an eye on the creature. S.H.I.E.L.D. might have some way to cage it.”

Natasha had been monitoring their conversations while in contact with S.H.I.E.L.D. and keeping the laser canon aimed at the creature. She toggled her comm. “I've kept Fury updated. They're working on something.”

Tony said, “Puff's too big to fit into Bruce's cage.”

Steve said, “Hawkeye, be ready to take the shot if it makes another aggressive move. War Machine, fly Tony to the Quinjet and bring back the container Tony mentioned. Tony, you can borrow some of my clothes if you need to after that shower. I've got a satchel stowed away.” 

Rhodes zipped over to them and held out his hands to Tony, his faceplate up. “C'mon, Trouble. Want to dance?”

Tony stood on Rhodes' feet, and wrapped his arms around Rhodes' waist. 

“Trouble? You haven't called me that since M.I.T.” Tony said.

Rhodes carefully lifted off. “Actually, I did after we plucked you out of the desert in Afghanistan.”

“Huh,” Tony said. “I don't remember that.”

“You were pretty out of it,” Rhodes said. Natasha had seen the pictures of Tony after he'd been found in the desert. He'd looked half dead. 

Before Rhodes had gotten even a tenth of the way back to the Quinjet, a deep thrumming began.

The Quinjet started moving to the beat of the noise, like someone was shaking it. The longer it went on the sicker she started to feel. 

“Status check,” Natasha said, with difficulty. No one responded to her.

Clint had fallen out of the ATV. Rhodes and Tony were on the ground, too, Tony on his hands and knees, his hand pressing hard on his chest. Steve slowly climbed out of the ATV, and knelt down next to Clint.

“JARVIS, analysis!” Tony whispered. Natasha felt like her very bones were throbbing and her eyes hurt. The headache that she had from the ultrasound increased ten times. 

“There are strong infrasound waves originating near the dragon, Sir. I strongly suggest that--”

There was a loud boom, and the dragon disappeared. Thankfully, the throbbing feeling stopped and she dropped her head back against the pilot's seat in relief.

Cap helped Clint back into the ATV, then drove over to Tony and Rhodes. Rhodes had his face plate open, and he and Tony seemed to be holding each other up.

“Man, what happened?” Rhodes said. 

Tony was breathing harshly. “JARVIS? How are Tony's vitals?” Natasha asked, concerned. She didn't like how Tony had been pressing on the arc reactor.

“Checking his pulse and BP monitor now, Agent Romanoff, and they are... returning to normal parameters,” JARVIS said. 

JARVIS explained about the effects of infrasound waves to the team while Tony and Rhodes climbed into the ATV. “Thanks for the lift, Cap,” Tony groaned. “I don't think we're quite cleared for take off. And owwww. Rhodey, I haven't had this bad of a headache since sophomore year at MIT. You remember the party I'm thinking of?”

“The one where your underaged ass had to be carried out of by yours truly, once I'd figured out where the hell you'd gone, and I had to babysit you all the damn night so you didn't choke on your own puke and die? That one? The one you still owe me for?” Rhodes said loudly, causing Clint to snicker.

“Ah, sweet pea, it's good to know how much you cared,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “But yeah, this headache rivals the one I woke up with back then.”

“Where'd the dragon go?” Clint asked, scanning the area.

“I was watching,” Tony said. “I think Puff went back to the Land of Honah Lee.”

“By that you mean wherever he came from,” Steve said.

“Yes,” Tony sighed. “Damn, I wish Thor was with us. He might know where Dragon Land is, because I'm thinking some kind of a rip between our worlds.”

“Those legends might be based on fact, then,” Clint said. “In ancient times dragons slipped through to Earth.”

Rhodes shrugged. “Looks like it.”

Tony said mournfully, “I think I'm going to miss Puff. I mean, wow, a real dragon. He would've warmed up to me. Eventually.”

Clint draped an arm around Tony's shoulders as the ATV rolled up into the Quinjet. “Little Jackie Paper, you're totally nuts. That critter didn't want to play with you. Maybe eat you, though.”

Rhodes snorted. “Let's hope neither he nor his kinfolk show back up here. Between S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Air Force, we're gonna have to start patrolling the area your pal stumbled into, Tony.” 

The four of them climbed out and moved to the passenger area. Steve got down his satchel and tossed it to Tony.

Steve said, mildly, “Puff? The Land of Honah Lee? And Tony is Jackie Paper? What are you guys talking about?” He turned and winked at Natasha.

As if on cue, Tony and Clint started bellowing out, “Puff the Magic Dragon, lived by the sea.” They sang off-key as they struggled through the song, obviously mangling the lyrics. Despite her headache, Natasha felt her lips twitching into a small smile. 

Rhodes just shook his head. Natasha asked quietly, “JARVIS, you are recording this?”

“Yes, Agent Romanoff,” JARVIS replied just as quietly. “Shall I send you a copy?”

“Definitively. And also send a copy to Pepper Potts, please.”

“It will be my pleasure, Agent Romanoff.”

* * *

Entering the theater room Tony had put together for the team movie nights, Natasha settled herself on the love seat and ran her hand appreciatively across the soft, full grain dark leather, touched with one finger the wood frame. She thought it was walnut, but wasn't sure. Whatever the wood was, she knew it would be expensive as well as beautiful. Tony Stark appreciated style and comfort. 

Steve came in, and pointed to the extravagant looking popcorn machine. It hadn't been there last week for team dinner-and-movie night. Except for the two times they'd had to assemble to stop idiots with delusions of world domination, they'd kept to their schedule on Thursday nights. They'd have a team meeting, then eat, taking turns to either cook or order out, and then watch a movie. Tonight it was Tony's turn again and she was curious about what he would choose. She had a theory, based on his last selection.

Steve whistled. “The last time I saw one of these, it was on the other side of the counter at a movie theater, right before I went overseas on tour with the USO. I suppose Tony knows how to use it, but I'll see if I can figure it out. If it's from the 40's it can't be too complicated.” 

He studied it for a minute, then began flipping switches and rummaging in a nearby cabinet. When the popcorn he poured in started popping, she stopped paying attention. Clint had walked into the room.

She gave a slight, upward tilt of her chin and he came to her as if she'd pulled him in on a line. She pressed her leg against his as he sat next to her. He pressed back, their shorthand for how they felt about each other. She knew that other agents thought they slept together. But lovers was an inadequate word for the relationship between them. It didn't begin to touch the complicated bond between them. And yet, it was so very simple, too. He stood with her, and she stood with him. 

He knew all of her secrets. Clint hated that he'd spilled them to Loki. She hadn't been successful yet in getting him to stop blaming himself, but she would keep at him until he let that go. In the end, what Clint had told Loki had proved useful since hearing Loki speak about her darkest moments had let her read him more deeply, feeding her intuition on how to play him. 

Over the seven weeks since Bruce Banner had quietly left Manhattan, Clint had been improving. He said he hated his mandatory therapy sessions, but she thought they were helping him. Also, spending time with Coulson had settled him, brought his usual sense of humor back into play. God help them all. 

She wondered when Coulson would finally make a move on Clint. For now, she was letting them fumble around on their own. Coulson would either sit down and have a serious talk with Clint about being his handler and sleeping with him, or Clint would work up the nerve to just kiss him and force the issue. 

Coulson had broken up with a lover shortly before Loki had arrived on Earth, but they hadn't been that serious. Clint hadn't had any serious relationships since becoming a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, but he'd always flirted with Coulson. Only, Clint didn't know that was what he was doing. Coulson did, but he didn't slap Clint down. He hadn't accepted the overtures, though. But since living through Loki's attack, she had sensed he'd re-evaluated Clint's interest. 

And finally, Clint was figuring out that he wanted Coulson for a lover. She could have told him a long time ago, but it had amused her to watch him puzzle it out for himself. Still, if they didn't take any action soon, she would handcuff them together and shove them in a closet until they talked. Or kissed, at least. 

“Wonder how Thor's doing and how close he is to coming back.” Clint said. “I miss the big lug.”

Natasha quirked an eyebrow up slightly. Clint shrugged his shoulders and gave her a thumbs up. He hadn't spent much time with Thor, true, but she trusted Clint's talent. If Clint accepted him, then she would, too. 

Clint said, “Yeah, Thor'd be a riot to watch movies with, since he would be in the dark about most of them as much as Steve is, but he'd say what he was thinking, unlike our captain over there.”

Steve just smiled at Clint as he shoveled popcorn into several bowls. “You could ask Tony. I believe he's keeping in touch with Doctor Foster and her work on these, ah, wormholes? The way between our world and his? And to Puff the Magic Dragon's home world?”

“Yeah, I'll ask him, but I probably won't be able to decipher what he's actually saying if he goes into science babble. Bruce was the only one of us who talked the same language,” Clint said, making gimme motions with his hands for the popcorn.

“Ask me what?” Tony had come into the room alone. Sometimes Pepper joined them but she was in California, handling some delicate negations with renewing contracts with business allies. Natasha thought Pepper Potts was doing an admirable job as C.E.O. of Stark Industries, and that it had been one of Tony's wiser decisions to turn the reins of his company over to her. It wasn't that Tony wasn't capable of doing the job. He was, certainly. But his passions led him away from those responsibilities, and Pepper Potts running the company gave him the time to be Iron Man and to turn his genius loose in his workshops and labs. Lots of people could handle being C.E.O.; very few could think and design on Tony's level. She would not tell him, but she agreed with the news stories that named him the Leonardo Da Vinci of our times. 

“When's the god of thunder gonna show his cape around here again?” Clint took a bowl of popcorn from Steve and picked out a fluffy kernel, flicked it high into the air and waited for it to descend right into his mouth, without his moving a muscle.

Tony opened his mouth, looked at Clint, and she could read his decision to greatly simplify his answer. “Jane's making great progress. She's working on building a bridge, a rainbow, sparkly highway to heaven. Well, to Asgard. The woman's a genius; I'd love to have her working for me. Her, me, and Bruce. Wow. If we were evil types, our combined brain power could take over the world.”

Clint laughed. “Jane's kinda feisty, you know, in a crackpot scientist kind of way. She might give you a hard time. I wonder if she still has that college kid working with her. She was an intern or something. Boy, she was a firecracker. Did you know she tased Thor, when he first showed up In New Mexico?” 

“Jane did that?” Tony asked, a grin breaking out on his face.

“Nah, her Girl Friday did. Debbie, Deana?” Clint wrinkled up his forehead, thinking. “No, her name was Darcy, that was it. But Jane ran him over with a truck. Twice. I think Thor must love the rough stuff.”

Tony laughed. “Maybe. I'm not going to ask him, or maybe I will, but I think I'll wait until I'm suited up first. So, ready to watch “The Fugitive?' The movie, not the old TV show or the re-make of it.”

Natasha made a small sound of discovery. Tony noticed and said, “What?” 

“We're not going to forget him,” she said quietly.

“I don't know what you mean. I just happen to have a huge crush on Tommy Lee Jones and Han Solo,” Tony lied, badly.

Natasha gave him a level stare and Tony flushed, his eyebrows rising upwards in a nonverbal message that she'd nailed him. Last time it had been his turn, Tony had picked North by Northwest. She'd realized after the hero had to go on the run that Tony had chosen it because of Bruce.

That had been after they'd learned Bruce had been identified twice in the South. Clint had sent out false reports of sightings in directions away from where Bruce's image had been confirmed by JARVIS on a couple of security cameras. The two people who'd recognized him had reported seeing Bruce to the police, but Clint's distraction reports had worked. The true sightings were initially considered as bogus as the other ones. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. had not been fooled for long, though, and had recently tracked Bruce to Guatemala. They had lost him there according to the spy program Tony had installed in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s computers. The agents were authorized to take Bruce into custody, not just watch his movements. Natasha didn't think that he would allow himself to be talked into coming voluntarily like he had with her. Fury had agreed. He'd given different orders this time. Bruce wouldn't be asked, or persuaded. Agents would trick him and render him unconscious, keep him sedated until he was in a Hulk proof cage. 

She knew that Fury considered doing that to Bruce to be a form of tough love, although of course, love had nothing to do with it. Politics did. Fury was determined that S.H.I.E.L.D. not lose an asset like the Hulk or Bruce to the Army's custody or to any of their enemies. Both facets of Doctor Banner were valuable, especially since Bruce had gained more control over himself after he transformed. 

Fury wouldn't hurt Bruce at least. Natasha was mostly sure about that. He wouldn't allow new gamma monsters to be made from blood and flesh taken from Bruce's body. 

After Bruce was caged, Fury would try to persuade him that he was safer being in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s tolerant custody rather than being an Army prisoner. 

Hydra was another matter all together. Her contacts had given her a name, someone new on the scene who was behind the push to capture Banner. He called himself “The Leader,” and he'd persuaded Hydra to join forces with him.

All she knew about him was that he was very intelligent, and that something was wrong with him physically. And that he hungered for Bruce like an art collector would for a rare painting by Van Gogh. There was a price on Bruce's head and every would be villain wanting to make a name for himself would make capturing the Hulk a challenge.

S.H.I.E.L.D. knew this. It was just more fodder for Fury's decision to bring Bruce into S.H.I.E.L.D. 

At least Fury hadn't re-instated domestic terrorist charges against Bruce, like Ross would if he took back the authority to arrest Bruce. But Fury had quietly gotten a court order placing Bruce under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s authority, with himself and Maria Hill named as guardians. Bruce was deemed to be a danger to himself and others, according to the court documents, although not appropriate for any mental institution. Due to his transformations, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s lawyers had argued that Bruce was incompetent to care for himself. His running away had convinced the judge in the closed hearing of the necessity of stripping Bruce's legal rights from him. In the eyes of the justice system, Bruce Banner had just entered foster care with S.H.I.E.L.D. 

That was how Clint had looked at it, at any rate, when the team had discussed it. Clint had been a foster child, and he hadn't had good experiences. He still would become tense when he mentally revisited those times. 

The team had expressed their outrage to Fury and Hill, of course. Bruce wasn't a child and he wasn't in a state of mind that meant he couldn't care for himself, like somebody's elderly granny. 

It was, of course, more complicated than that. But essentially, the court had given S.H.I.E.L.D. the authority to make decisions for Bruce. Tony was looking into possible appeals, but without Bruce there to argue for his own autonomy, there wasn't much chance of another hearing.

Natasha wondered if Bruce knew about the court's decision. He was quite good at hacking, so it was possible. 

“Nat?” Clint nudged her. “We're waiting on you.”

It was somewhat astounding to her that she trusted the three other people in this room enough to allow herself to wool gather and not pay close attention to their actions.

She gently nudged Clint back, and glanced at Steve and then Tony, who was holding a remote in his hand. He sometimes let JARVIS handle the controls , just asking his AI to stop or start the movie. Tonight, though, it looked like he wanted to be hands on. 

“You can start the movie, Tony. I was just lost in my thoughts for a few moments about _our_ fugitive.”

Tony nodded sharply, and pressed play. The movie began and she let herself watch the tragedy of Richard Kimble's life.

* * * 

Two weeks later, after they'd had yet another round with the Serpent Society, they'd gathered in Tony's living room. 

Tony had taken off his armor. He looked sweaty, his dark hair sticking up in all directions. Wincing, he stretched as he poured himself a scotch and offered one to Clint.

Clint gave him a thumbs up and joined Tony at the small bar. Natasha was tempted to drink with them, but instead sat down on a couch and put her head back against the comfortable cushions.

“Kretins,” she muttered, putting a Russian inflection on the word.

“Who Tasha?” Clint asked tiredly. “Those slippery, slidey snakes who got away _again_ tonight, or me and Tony?” 

She sighed. “Those idiots. I hate going into the sewers. At least we stopped them from robbing the box office at the Garden. I will give them points for trying to do it when the circus was playing there. The staff thought they were just another act.”

Tony knocked back his drink in one smooth gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I can't believe we didn't take down that bunch of mooks. I'm embarrassed, I'm actually embarrassed for us to have only caught half of them.”

Clint made a face.“I know. It's ridiculous--”

“They're crazy-ass ridiculous,” Tony mumbled.

“Yeah, I feel like we're fighting cartoons, or something,” Clint groused. Natasha agreed. But it was good to see Clint commiserating with Stark. Clint griping to the team was a good sign. Natasha became concerned when he was too quiet. He still had days when he hardly said a word and his eyes looked lost.

Tony moved from behind the bar to Clint's side and punched him lightly on the arm. “Cartoon or not, Sidewinder is running a criminal labor union. A criminal labor union! Can you believe that? I can't hardly believe it.”

“Believe it,” Clint muttered. 

“I swear,” Tony said, “I think Sidewinder's written a manual on _'The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Criminals.'_ They've even got retirement plans, and other perks.” He grinned delightedly at Clint, “Since I brought up perks, that one girl, Diamondback? She totally was flirting with Cap.”

“I heard that,” Steve said as he trudged into the room. “She was not.” He came and sat next to her, pulling down his cowl and she scrutinized him before wiping off a smudge of oily dirt from his jaw. He gave her a look of surprise, but didn't say anything. Clint saw her do it, though, and grinned at her, waggling his eyebrows. She gave him an inscrutable look back.

“JARVIS, play the video from my suit when Captain America and Diamondback were exchanging blows,” Tony ordered, a laugh in his voice.

JARVIS obliged, and a large monitor flicked on. Tony and Clint cackled like hyenas when Diamondback, a pretty brown-haired girl in a pink and black costume, definitely winked and smiled flirtatiously at Steve before she acted like a demented acrobat and made her escape.

Natasha patted Steve on the arm comfortingly. “Maybe you can turn her someday, Steve. She's very pretty.”

He looked deeply uncomfortable. “I don't think I'm cut out for that kind of James Bond stuff, Widow.” 

Clint had picked 007 movies for them to watch last movie and team night. It had been a change from his usual taste in terrible films. She had mocked the spy maneuvers mercilessly until the rest of them had thrown popcorn at her.

She yawned. It had been a very long day, and thanks to Sidewinder's teleportation cloak, half of the Serpent Society that they'd chased into alleys and down sewers had been rescued by him. Tony was dying to get his hands on it to figure out how Sidewinder was making it work. Tony's current theory was that the man had stumbled on some sort of alien tech.

She would make the rounds of her informants and find out where the Serpent Society had gone to ground. A secret hideout wouldn't keep them safe for long.

She looked up at Steve and smiled. Not at all nicely. “If you like, I can teach you some tricks for seducing the enemy.”

Steve shook his head. “I don't think I could do that, but thank you for the offer. If I do meet with Diamondback, it won't be to trick her. I'll just try to convince her to give up her life of crime and become a decent citizen.”

And now Tony was yawning. “Spoken like the Cap we've come to know and love.”

Clint knocked back his scotch, then turned the empty glass upside down on the bar counter.

He stared at Tony, who looked exhausted. “Don't you have an interview scheduled tomorrow?”

Tony groaned. “Crap. Why did I do that again?”

Clint scratched his nose. “Isn't it the one where you're going to talk about Bruce after you dazzle them with your new tech?”

“Oh, that's right. I'm doing it for Brucie.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. Stark and his nicknames. Banner wouldn't get angry at being called Brucie, but she could just picture the way his eyebrows would lift, questioning Tony's sanity.

Clint pointed at Tony. “You'd better go to bed. I'm pretty sure you didn't sleep last night, right?”

“Uh,” Tony floundered.

“You were in the Chitauri lab, weren't you?”

“Barton, if you've been in the ceiling vents spying on me...” Tony interrupted himself with another huge yawn.

“Nah. Your system wouldn't support my weight; that's only a rumor that I'm always in the vents. I'm just observant. Go to bed. I'm calling it a day. What about you, Tasha?”

She stood up and stretched. “I'm going to go soak in my tub.” She walked over to Clint and pulled him off to the side and whispered, “Come and join me, if you want.”

He brightened. He loved her huge tub and they were comfortable being naked with each other. She wanted to talk to him about Coulson, anyway. Medical was releasing him tomorrow, and it was time that Clint manned up and did something to let Coulson know he was interested. Of course, she knew that Coulson was interested back, but Clint didn't. The whole situation had been quite entertaining so far. 

Tony had found a couch and was sprawled out on it on his back, already lost to sleep. Steve was standing over him and had that fondly exasperated look that hardly ever left his face when he was dealing with Tony being Tony. That changed when Tony started panting in his sleep, his face twisting up. Steve's brows drew together and he set his lips firmly together, his stance alert. 

Ah. Another nightmare. Tony slept poorly, and this wasn't the first time his exhaustion had taken him down in their midst. After what Stane had done to him, Tony falling asleep like this with them in the room showed just how much he did trust them. 

Tony started to make garbled sounds, but they all knew better than to wake up teammates in the throes of nightmares by shaking them. 

Steve called Tony's name several times and the last time he added the inflection that meant Captain America meant business. Tony's eyes flew open and he sat up, looked around at them.

“What? What's happening?” He glanced around the room. “JARVIS?” He scrubbed his eyes with his hands.

“I believe you had another nightmare, Sir, but the tower is secure, and Miss Potts is safe and asleep.”

“What were you dreaming about?” Clint asked.

Tony just waved off the question. 

“C'mon, Stark. I'll show you mine, if you show me yours,” Clint said, the words so heavy with innuendo that he sounded absolutely absurd. 

Tony stared at him and then snorted. The wildness in his eyes was fading, though. 

Clint nudged her with his elbow and moved towards Tony. She followed his lead and when Clint plopped himself down on Stark's left, she did the same on his right. They both were touching Tony, their thighs and sides pressed into his rigid body.

“Hey! Personal bubble invasion,” Tony grumbled, but she could feel the tenseness easing out of him. 

Clint slung an arm around Tony's shoulders. “I'll go first, since you're being a wuss about sharing with the class. Umm... I wake up ready to climb the walls because I've just dreamed that Loki is touching me with the scepter and I can feel myself becoming his puppet again.”

Natasha reached behind Tony and touched Clint on the arm. He threw a quick smile her way. She hoped Stark and Steve realized the trust Clint was showing by admitting he was still affected by what Loki had done to him.

Tony pursed his lips and then glanced around at all of them. “I, uh, have that one, too. Where Loki pokes me with his stick o' doom but the arc reactor doesn't stop him this time. And he makes me... “

“Hurt people. Even people you care about.” Clint finished for him, matter of factually.

Tony blew out a breath. “And sometimes I'm falling back to Earth, space and stars all around me and the Chitauri mothership blown to pieces, and I have no control. I know I'm going to die this time.”

Clint added, “Me, I'm jumping off a building with only the barest chance of my grappling arrow actually working.” He polished his fingernails on his chest and then blew on them. 

Tony narrowed his eyes. “Being sucked into the helicarrier's fans of mightiness and being turned into Stark jelly.”

Steve looked guilty. Natasha had read their reports and knew Steve hadn't pulled the switch on Tony's signal because he'd had to fight his way clear of Loki's men. Tony had been sucked into the fans, but the suit had protected him.

Tony noticed Steve's expression, too. “Cut it out, Cap. It wasn't your fault.”

“Shooting at Fury,” Clint said, a sly tone to his voice.

“Wait. That's a nightmare?” Tony asked, and the snarky tone to his voice meant he'd recovered enough. Clint winked at her and they both stood up.

Tony smiled at them and it was a real one, not the million dollar grin he showed sometimes to the public or the smirk he was fond of bestowing on people who had seriously annoyed him.

Then he yawned again, and slid back down on the couch. “I'mma gonna stay right here.” He closed his eyes again, another yawn escaping.

“No you're not, soldier,” Cap said, amusement in his voice. “You're going up to a real bed.”

“Mmmm. Pepper,” Tony agreed, but he made no effort to get up.

Cap shook his head, hauled Tony up with one hand, and started towing him out of the room. Ignoring Tony's grumbling that he was being Cap-napped, Steve said goodnight to her and Clint.

Steve stopped, though, when JARVIS asked for their attention. 

“Sir, Captain, Widow, Hawkeye, I believe this is information is high priority. S.H.I.E.L.D. has been ordered by the Council to turn over Doctor Banner's files to General Ross and his staff. As of ten minutes ago, S.H.I.E.L.D. no longer has the authority to bring in Doctor Banner or act in any way on his behalf. General Ross has charged Doctor Banner with being a domestic terrorist; he will be remanded into the Army's custody when he is arrested.”

Tony looked furious. “God, Bruce. You'd better be keeping your head down. Who's up for taking potshots at Ross?”

JARVIS added, “Sir, the files sent to General Ross appear to be somewhat incomplete. They don't include that Doctor Banner was last seen in Guatemala. Also, the effects of gamma radiation upon him as shown by Loki's scepter have been... misplaced, apparently.”

“I guess we owe Fury for that,” Tony said, flatly. 

Steve shifted so that his arm was around Tony. “Thank you, JARVIS. If you would route any new updates to me, I'll screen them for the team. I'll see everybody at breakfast and we'll discuss how to handle General Ross and any negative publicity that he releases. It might be time for that video from Willowdale to be made public. Good night, everyone.”

He steered Tony out the door, and Clint took Natasha's hand. “Ever wish upon a star, Nat? It's something kids do, when they see one at night or when one falls from the sky. Let's go up to the roof and wish for Bruce to stay safe. It's corny, but right now I don't feel like acting like a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.”

“I haven't done that before, this star wishing.” No one had taught her such a sweet gesture, to mimic an innocent child at play. She didn't dwell on the thought. The Red Room was behind her now.

She would indulge Clint in this, but she wouldn't rely on a superstition to keep Bruce free from harm. She would gather as much intelligence on the Leader as she could instead.

Clint grinned at her. “Bruce would think we're both nuts, but if he was here I'd drag him out there, too. Maybe he'd have another Zen saying about sending out good intentions into the universe, or maybe he'd just like staring at the stars.”

She nudged him with her shoulder and let him pull her out of the room. 

It wasn't easy to see stars through the lights of New York City, but Clint wished for Bruce's safety on every star he could find and she stood beside him.


	11. Phil

Whoever was knocking on Phil's door, with two sharp, hard raps, wasn't asking for permission to enter; they were giving him one small moment to gather himself before they entered his room here on the medical floor of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Wasn't Stark. When Stark visited him, he announced he was there by doing a song pattern when he knocked. Phil had failed to recognize _In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida_ and none of the other AC/DC or other rock tunes that Stark adored, so Stark had switched to _Shave and a Haircut, Two Bits_ , after bemoaning Phil's lack of interest in classic rock tunes.

If it had been Barton, he'd have knocked as he was entering the room, the door half open before the first and only knock would have reached Phil's ears. It was the same way Barton would come into Phil's office, and Phil had never been able to train him out of so casually barging in on him, no matter what Phil was working on or who else might be talking to him, in person or on the phone.

No, this was Nick Fury. And it wasn't a coincidence that he was coming early this morning, before the doctors discharged him. He would want to talk about the Avengers.

The door opened in a decisive manner, and Fury strode over to the bed. Phil adjusted it so he was comfortable sitting up.

“Hi, Boss.”

Fury smiled at him, a rare private smile that he hardly ever let other people see. Phil knew that it amused Fury when Phil called him Boss, but he was careful to only do it when it was the two of them. In front of other agents or civilians, it was always a respectful,“Director.”

“Agent Coulson. I hear you're leaving Medical today. Got a few things to cover with you. Are you up to that?”

“You know I am, or you wouldn't bring it up.” 

Fury nodded and moved a chair closer to the bed and sat down. Phil had been doing some research on his laptop, and he turned the screen so that Fury could see it.

The top NY1 headline story was about the Avengers stopping the Serpent Society from robbing the Garden last night. Phil scrolled past it and clicked on a different link.

Bruce Banner's face filled half of the screen, looking tired and haunted, and so very human. 

The Hulk's expression almost mirrored it, on the other side of the screen. 

“That footage from Culver, when Ross trapped him on campus?” Fury slid down in his chair a little, relaxing.

“Yes,” Phil affirmed. “Stark's been engineering human interest stories on Banner, keeping his name out there in the public's eye, all designed to let people see the man behind the monster, that sort of thing.”

Phil closed the laptop. “Boss, I've been doing a lot of thinking while I've been stuck here. The Avengers Initiative is up and functioning now; the first stage is over. Making Banner a focus point did help them transition into a team. They're each doing their part to help the guy.” 

Fury looked disgusted. “I was banking on Stark's lawyers helping Banner to negotiate a contract with S.H.I.E.L.D. that he could live with, but he cut his ties with Stark instead.”

Giving Fury an even look, Phil said, “So he was one step ahead of us and Ross. You want him with us because he's brilliant. Not to mention the advantages the Hulk brings.” 

Fury steepled his hands. “Banner's more stubborn than I thought, going back to running. I don't want him being a loose end. We gave him a long leash before, but it's different now. He's not really flying under the radar, not since Harlem. And he knows we'd be watching him, if we just put him back on that long leash. Too much chance that he'd ditch us this time.”

Phil reached for a glass of water and drank a few sips. He said, “We'd find him again. If the other parties weren't after him, maybe it would be better to go back to just watching him being a handyman or a dishwasher. He's got the Hulk under control.”

Fury made a so-so gesture with his hands.“Mostly. I can believe he can control his anger, but pain? If he's caught by those other parties, they're going to go that route to bring out the Hulk.”

“Only if they have some way to control him.”

“Our intelligence suggests that the Army's made a breakthrough on Stern's research. They feel they can control the transformations. Coulson, Ross got his way last night. Banner is officially the Army's problem again.”

Phil said mildly, “That's not good. Did he reinstate--”

“Yeah. Banner's considered a domestic terrorist again.” Fury narrowed his eye. “This is going to set us back even further.”

“Maybe if Banner finds out then he'll come in voluntarily now, for protection against Ross and his Hulkbuster units.” Phil finished his water and Fury took the glass from him and placed it back on the table.

Scowling, Fury said, “Who knows? I thought that after the psychological isolation he'd been under for so many years, that being in a team with people who wanted him would be too much for him to resist. Surprise. He resisted just fine.”

Phil shrugged. “He's going to be caught eventually. The world's just too small now. And Hydra's got contacts that we don't and they're looking hard for him. The guy's days are numbered, we know that.”

Fury said, a note of irritation in his voice, “We're going to keep searching for his big green ass and I'm going to put as much pressure as it takes to get control shifted back to S.H.I.E.L.D.” 

Phil raised his eyebrows. “We need to bring him in before he falls into the wrong hands, but if Banner can't be persuaded to come in from the cold, either by S.H.I.E.L.D. or the Army, then taking him in hard, sedated, caged, is not going to sit well with the Avengers. They'll try to free him, and they don't need to be fighting on the wrong side of the street.”

“Lesser of two evils, Phil. We won't hurt him.” Fury gave him a knowing look. “You know what our profilers are projecting what Ross will do, if Banner's helpless and in his control.”

“I've read their reports,” Phil said, agreeing. He'd demanded and gotten the highest level of clearance regarding any information they had that concerned the Avengers. “And we know how Hydra works.”

“Got any suggestions?” Fury rolled his shoulders, shifting a little. Phil suspected the hospital chairs were designed to ensure only short visits to the patient. 

Phil arched his back, stretching a little in the bed; watching Fury had made his own muscles feel cramped. “I've seen his farewell video. Read his file. You want leverage on Banner, you make it about the things he cares about. Protecting kids. Protecting his friends. Helping people.”

“If Banner was a different kind of man, he'd change that. It gives us and Hydra a starting point on finding him. Just look for where a doctor is needed for people who can't pay for it, in a third world country,” Fury said, with a touch of exasperation.

“Boss, if he was a different kind of man, he wouldn't be an Avenger,” Phil said, with a small smile.

“If Hydra finds him first, he'll end up a science experiment again. He'll be in agony,” Fury said grimly. “And we don't want to find out what they'll do with the Hulk's blood.”

“Agreed, sir.” Phil massaged his forehead, where one of his headaches was building up. “Once you could have used the carrot of getting rid of the Hulk to get him to sign up with S.H.I.E.L.D., but he's not interested in figuring out a cure anymore. He's not quite to the point of embracing the Hulk, but he's learned to accept that part of himself, mostly. He's learned to control when to let the Hulk come out. He just doesn't want to deal with the fallout becoming the Hulk entails.”

“Could have used you, you know, to help bring him around,” Fury grumbled.

“Sorry, Boss,” Phil said blandly. “I'll try not to get skewered by any more arrogant gods in the future.”

“See that you don't.” Fury grinned. “That AI of Stark's filmed the Hulk smashing Loki. It's a favorite among the agents to play.”

“You letting them get by with that?” Phil wasn't surprised, though. 

“It's good for morale. I've turned a blind eye to it.” Fury grinned, amused at his own joke. Stark would be surprised, Phil decided, to know that Fury made more jokes about his blind eye than even Stark managed to do, and Stark made plenty of them. 

“So is the court order making you and Hill his guardians tossed for good?” Phil stopped rubbing his forehead. This headache wasn't going to go away so easily. “Or do you and Ross go toe to toe in court in a custody battle?”

“The Council wants S.H.I.E.L.D. to drop it for now.” Fury shrugged. “If the Army grabs him and keeps him, then we'll reconsider.”

So, since the discussion about Banner was over, Phil broached another subject. “Boss, there's something else I need to run by you. It's personal.”

“Hawkeye?”

Phil nodded.

“Yes,” Fury said, absolutely deadpan.

“Yes?” Phil mirrored the same expression.

“Yes, I'll consider myself informed that you and Barton are in a relationship,” Fury said, sounding almost bored.

“We aren't.” Phil cleared his throat. “Not yet. But if things work out, would you have any problem with it?” 

Phil wasn't surprised that Fury was aware of the flirtation Barton had been engaging in for years. 

“I've got one good eye, Coulson, and I trust him to not let personal relationships get in the way of clear eyesight. If you think it won't be an issue, then I don't have a problem with it. Been a long time coming. You've had a change of heart.” Fury's mouth turned up a little in understated approval.

“Yes, sir. I have.” Phil's answering smile was hopeful. 

Fury pointed a finger at him, dismissing Phil's potential relationship with Hawkeye. “The Avengers. They need to keep in contact with S.H.I.E.L.D, and I don't mean whatever information Stark steals from our files. I want you to be their handler. Liaison with S.H.I.E.L.D. through you.”

Phil frowned. “Sir, there could be a problem with that. If I do take on that assignment, my priority is going to be them, not S.H.I.E.L.D. You still want me for the job?”

“I do, Agent Coulson. I do.” Fury got up and headed to the door, giving Phil a nod before disappearing into the hall. 

 

* * * 

His doctor had threatened to keep him in Medical if he didn't stay with someone for the next week when Phil had made noises about going back to his apartment, or worse, grabbing quarters in the mid-town office or the helicarrier. Clint had come by on one of his frequent visits, and had been loitering in a chair; He'd immediately offered his quarters. Phil had allowed himself to be talked into staying at Stark Tower, and the doctor had stopped scowling. She laid down the law as to what he could and couldn't do for the next few days, and Clint took notes and asked questions, putting himself in charge of keeping Phil well.

A plan coming together satisfied him. 

For now, the second bedroom in Clint's suite of rooms had been designated as his, but he expected that to change fairly soon.

Stark had done a nice job with setting up quarters for his teammates. While he hadn't had the tour of the tower yet, Clint's rooms were spacious, the kitchen well furnished, and the bed he was lying down on in the spare bedroom was comfortable. He intended to find out if the couch was as well. 

Really, there was more privacy between the quarters of the different team members than there would be in more conventional apartment buildings. Stark was a generous man. Difficult, brilliant, and more vulnerable than most people realized, deflected away by Stark's brand of cutting wit and arrogance. Phil wasn't most people, though, and he'd grown genuinely fond of Tony Stark. 

Clint was an excellent asset, cool-headed, bright, and talented at making quick character judgments about people. Phil had never found him to be wrong when he said someone could be trusted. Phil was careful to keep that knack of Clint's out of his files. 

Phil wasn't sure Clint had an equal when it came to archery. But he was also an excellent sniper, and deft with knives. Natasha was the better martial artist, but they were about equal when it came to acrobatic maneuvers. They were, frankly, his best team. S.H.I.E.L.D. had given the Avengers their very best people. 

There was a sweetness to Clint that Phil liked very much. It was in his smile and his eyes, and the way that he'd just made himself comfortable in Phil's life. Clint called him sir, but Phil had been able to hear the subtext in those three small letters almost immediately after he'd recruited Clint. It was shorthand for respect and trust and safety and comfort. 

Clint had the ability to shrug off his S.H.I.E.L.D. agent persona as easily as he unzipped his uniform. Off duty, he wasn't particularly closemouthed or locked down. Not like Romanoff.

Clint's sense of humor was mostly juvenile, but his jokes weren't malicious. He liked the role of class clown, and Phil knew that he needed to indulge himself with his silly antics as much as he needed to let his arrows fly in the practice range. If Clint had to be reined in, Phil could do it easily. 

Of course he'd known Clint had a crush on him. Phil hadn't said anything to Clint, waiting for it to run its course. Except the crush hadn't died. It should have. Phil had kept Clint a small distance away, maintained the handler/agent relationship. He'd followed protocol. 

Every rule had its exception. Phil remembered waking up after Loki had almost killed him and finding Clint asleep in a chair by his bed. He'd felt a flood of warmth, looking at Clint's face. That was when he realized maybe he'd been fooling himself about his feelings. He wasn't going to censor himself anymore, didn't intend to remind himself that Hawkeye was out of bounds. Clint wasn't a standard S.H.I.E.L.D. agent anymore, and Phil wanted him.

Clint had worked with him for a very long time, and he'd seen Phil screwing up, seen him being just Phil Coulson. And still, Clint's face would light up when he saw Phil, if they were off duty. On duty, Clint's expressions were stoic, buttoned down. Phil didn't think anybody except Fury and Romanoff could hear the trust in Clint's tone of voice while they communicated during missions. 

But even if Phil had known for years that Barton was attracted to him, Barton hadn't figured it out. A talk between them was long overdue, and dying tended to reset a man's priorities. Barton was offering and Phil was going to take him up on it. Now he just needed to fill Barton in on the mission. 

Phil levered himself up from the bed and walked slowly into the living room. He settled himself on the comfortable couch and closed his eyes. It would be a while before he was recovered enough for active duty, but he had a couple of agendas to work on. First: Inform Barton that a change in their handler/agent relationship was on the table. Second: Review this campaign to get Banner back with the Avengers.

“Agent, Clint is in the hallway, unlocking the door to this suite,” JARVIS announced.

“Agent?”

“I do apologize, Agent. Sir insisted that was how you were to be addressed.”

Clint walked into the room and grinned at Coulson. “Hey, you're up. How are you feeling, want anything?”

Phil patted the couch. “Sit down, Clint. I think it's time we had a talk.”

* * *

“Code Blue!” Sometimes Tony even heard that phrase in his sleep. He'd lost track of how many times the team had been called out to deal with enemies, sometimes superpowered themselves, sometimes just very smart and heavily armed. They'd co-ordinated with S.H.I.E.L.D., with law enforcement, the National Guard, the Army, the Coast Guard, and on one memorable occasion, with a local troop of Girl Scouts. 

So this was his life now, taking down bad guys, hopping from the lab to his workshop, handling the R and D department at Stark Industries, and attending charity events for funding the rebuilding of Manhattan.

He'd gotten used to letting Steve, Natasha, and Clint pummel him in the name of training. Coulson and Pepper had formed an unholy alliance, resulting in all manner of things being signed and documented by him. He'd had food fights with Clint, team dinners, and movie nights sprawled out on a couch and lazily arguing Star Trek trivia with Coulson or howling at Clint for picking another incredibly bad movie involving killer tomatoes or sentient slime creatures. More than once he'd fallen asleep against someone's shoulder as his exhaustion had caught up with him. 

The nightmares still plagued him, but at least he wasn't alone in his PTSD. Even Coulson sometimes had horrible dreams, he'd learned. He could thank Clint's big mouth for that knowledge. Also, courtesy of Birdbrain, that Coulson gave awesome blowjobs, which there was no amount of brain bleach that could possibly scrub that image out of his poor, poor head. 

He'd gone to the Met with the rest of the team and Pepper and Coulson when Steve had been the featured artist in a free special closing event for the exhibit that had showcased his work. 

People could donate to the Manhattan Rebuilding Fund, but it wasn't required. Anyway, besides honoring Steve as an artist, it was an opportunity to get the message out about Bruce.

It was open to the public, but only the first thousand people would be allowed to enter the Great Hall. A ton of people had showed up to see Captain America and the rest of the Avengers. 

Steve gave a short but heartfelt speech about the Howling Commandos and Peggy Carter, and that drawing his teammates had helped make being on the front lines of WWII bearable. How honored he felt to be an Avenger. He talked about what it meant to the team when Bruce decided to fight with them during the Battle of Manhattan. 

Steve said, sincerity just pouring from him, “Bruce Banner had a choice. He could have walked away. He became an Avenger because he was needed. He's still needed. You've all seen the footage of how the Hulk fought with us.” Steve pointed at Tony. “Iron Man is alive because of the Hulk.”

Tony waved a hand and stepped up next to Steve on the platform and grabbed the microphone. “And can I just point out that Bruce is one of the smartest guys on this planet, and it's a criminal waste of his talent that he's out there washing dishes or digging ditches for a living.” Steve gripped Tony's elbow with fingers of steel and Tony replayed what he'd just said. He decided he'd better add a disclaimer. “Not that there's anything wrong with washing dishes or digging ditches, I'm not saying that. I've washed dishes myself. Well, actually Bruce kind of made me, but anyway, we'd all benefit if Bruce could be turned loose in a lab. Seriously, guy's a fu- a genius.”

Tony could hear Barton behind him snort at Tony's near miss with cursing.

Steve smoothly took the microphone away from Tony. “Thank you, Iron Man.” He looked back out over the crowd. “Bruce Banner is not a terrorist, although the Army and the American government have falsely accused him of being one. It's a ploy, so Bruce can be taken into custody. Why? It's not to keep the public safe from him, as General Ross and his Bio-tech Division would have you believe. It's to take Bruce apart, to unlock the secrets of how he transforms into the Hulk. Bruce is afraid to let that happen, and not because it probably would involve him being tortured and experimented on without his consent. He's afraid of what horrors that research will unleash upon the world. That's the reason Bruce Banner went back into hiding and isn't standing here with his team today, but if you,” Steve did that thing he did so well, where you felt like he was talking directly to you, despite the huge crowd present, “feel as we do, that an injustice has been done, then please sign the petition to the President asking for amnesty and a pardon for any past charges against Bruce Banner.”

The crowd was turned loose to see the exhibit and hopefully sign the amnesty petition. Free posters of Steve's drawing of Bruce as himself and as the Hulk facing down the leviathan were given away and Tony and the rest of the team spend the rest of the evening scrawling their names over and over on them. 

Maybe what they were doing was helping Bruce. JARVIS crunched the numbers for them, as he had done for Bruce before he had taken off, and gave them a status report on every team night. The numbers were... better. Not great, but better. For a while, anyway. 

After Cap had called out General Ross during his speech at the Met, Ross had begun a smear campaign about Bruce. He didn't pull any punches, and the numbers started sliding down.

When the documentary on Bruce was aired, with the interviews with Betty and Stan and Eric Selvig, plus some of the people Bruce had helped over the years, Ross had responded by airing footage of the Hulk destroying buildings and tanks. He edited out the footage from Harlem and Culver that showed the Hulk protecting Betty and defeating the Abomination. He got news channels to run stories about the scientists who'd been killed during the lab accident and the soldiers and policemen who'd died trying to capture the Hulk. The grieving families were heartbreaking. Tony knew that Bruce would have given his own life to avoid those deaths. Of course, during each incident that had resulted in a death, Bruce had been attacked first. Cap had extended the Avengers' sympathies to the families, but he'd also found ways to point that out to the news reporters. Tony didn't think it had done much good, though. JARVIS' numbers agreed. 

Bruce was painted as an unbalanced, severely troubled man, unethical in his decision to experiment on himself, unwilling to face the consequences of his actions, but more than willing to put innocent people in danger by living in hiding. A man with no morals, a known prostitute and lawbreaker. 

Pepper remained ambivalent. It discouraged Tony to talk to her about Bruce, so he found himself avoiding bringing him up. She must have felt the same, because she kept the topic of Bruce Banner out of conversations with all of her considerable communication skills. 

Some of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents they worked with felt the same as Ross. Tony had overheard two of them after a mission debriefing at the Manhattan S.H.I.E.L.D. office and he'd seen red. Natasha had intercepted him before he could break their noses, and had dragged him into another room, her strong hands keeping him still.

“You won't do Bruce any good by indulging yourself, Stark,” she'd said, her eyes stern.

Tony fisted his hands. “Did you hear what they said? Fuck! They're--” 

“Idiots. Yes. But we'll let Coulson deal with them.” 

Sometimes, Tony would think about Bruce's first night at Stark Tower. 

He'd known Bruce was not going to make it back on his own steam to the tower after they'd all gone out to eat together. The guy had been falling asleep standing up at the shawarma place, so Tony'd had a quiet word with Steve and asked him to give him a hand with Bruce. He could have asked Happy, but Bruce didn't know Happy. It seemed important that Bruce, vulnerable if he fell asleep, be helped by one of the team.

Steve had come back with them and carried Bruce up to bed. Tony couldn't carry him because he was limping from tripping over debris from Loki being smashed into the concrete – and how was it that Tony fell from space, was grabbed by the Hulk, landed without a scratch, but he fell over _rubble_ and twisted his ankle? Not badly, he was fine the next day, but he'd been worried he might trip or something and drop Bruce if he tried to pick him up. 

He and Steve had agreed to not wake Bruce once Happy had parked the car in the tower's underground parking garage. It had seemed kind of cruel to even try, Bruce was so deeply asleep and limp. And it was a long way up to the top of the tower for somebody who was probably too tired to even lift his feet. 

Surprisingly, Bruce had started to come to when they were in the elevator. Tony expected him to startle awake and fight against being held. The skimpy file Coulson had given Tony had listed times when Bruce had woken out of sleep just in time to avoid being captured, leaving everything he owned behind in whatever slum room Bruce had rented. The guy had lived on the edge so long that running had to be in his blood by now. 

That wasn't what had happened.

When Tony had told Bruce that Steve had him, Bruce had closed those dazed, half-lidded eyes and had just gone boneless again against Steve's broad chest. 

Subconsciously, Tony thought, Bruce had decided he could trust Tony and Steve; he bet the list of people Bruce Banner trusted was a damn short one, but he'd added the Avengers to it. 

Tony didn't want to fail that trust.

* * *


	12. An Early Morning Conversation

**Stark Tower. The Avengers' Communal Kitchen**

Steve paused while putting away the last clean dish from the dishwasher. From down the hall the clicking sound of high heeled shoes announced that he would have a visitor in a few minutes. 

It was probably Pepper. Natasha was gone on S.H.I.E.L.D. business, and while he wouldn't put it past Clint to wear high heels on a dare, Natasha had taken him with her. A visitor wouldn't be coming in unescorted, since this was the Avengers' private kitchen.

He stretched, feeling good after his twenty mile morning run. He'd shaved a little off his best time: not as much as he was striving for, but he'd get there. He began to assemble the ingredients for his after work out smoothie. Bananas, spinach, protein powder, apple juice, blueberries and almonds were methodically dropped into the blender. 

“Good morning, Steve,” Pepper said as she stepped into the room, heading towards the coffee pot. She glanced at his white T-shirt and grey sweatpants, his running shoes. “Did you go for a run?”

“Pepper, good morning. And yes, I did a quick run. One of these days I need to go on a longer one, maybe fifty miles. Would you like some of my smoothie?” He added the last of the blueberries and pushed a button.

Shaking her head, Pepper poured herself a mug full of coffee. When he turned off the blender she said, “I have an early morning breakfast meeting across town. But thank you anyway.”

“You look very nice,” Steve said, filling a glass, and drinking half of it down in one go.

Crinkling her eyes, Pepper waved a hand down her fancy black suit and no doubt expensive shoes. “Tony has his type of armor, and I have mine. And speaking of Mr. Stark, I've been meaning to ask you for a favor.”

“It's about Tony?” Steve asked, going on alert, transitioning from just Steve Rogers to Captain America. “Is there a problem?”

“No, well, yes, I suppose there's always something up in the air with our Mr. Stark, but this favor is for me, too.” She smiled at him and he relaxed.

“Pepper, how can I help?” She held out the coffee cup and he took it from her.

She ran a hand over the counter top and then boosted herself up and crossed her ankles, her fancy clothes in contrast to her casual pose on top of Tony's marble counter. “Come with us to London the week after next?”

He raised his eyebrows at her, inviting her to explain, and handed her coffee back.

“Tony's the keynote speaker at the Tenth Annual Future of Robotics conference. But he's also promised to spend some time at the British Museum with me.” She took a sip of her coffee, an appreciative look crossing her face.

“And what do you need me for, Miss Potts?” Steve asked, genuinely confused.

“Tony will have the best intentions in the world but if he gets caught up with arguing or working with other engineers and scientists, I'm afraid he'll forget he's supposed to do sightseeing at the museum. I'll be left high and dry.” She rolled her eyes a little, but her expression was tolerant. 

He gave Pepper a rueful smile. “You want me to drag Tony away from awesome science? Miss Potts, you are overestimating my influence on the man in question.”

“No,” Pepper said, amused. “Tony is Tony; if he gets an idea he's going to drop everything to work on it. So come with us and if Tony gets hijacked by science we'll go without him. I'd love to have an artist's viewpoint while touring the museum, anyway. Besides, Tony said you've been thinking of visiting England.”

Steve thought back to a previous conversation and smelled a rat. A big shiny red and gold one. 

“What I think is that you and Mr. Stark are in cahoots with each other, Miss Potts.”

Pepper's small smile absolutely confirmed it, as far as Steve was concerned.

“Tony and I may have agreed that we'd love to have you join us, Steve. And if asking nicely won't work, I may have to resort to blackmail.”

“Careful, Miss Potts. You're talking about blackmailing an American icon.” Steve struck a pose and Pepper giggled.

“Well, if I must I must. Agree to come with us or I'll tell Tony that you only ever push one button on his blender.” She took a sip of coffee and looked at him over the edge of the mug.

“I'm a simple kind of guy; I only need one button,” Steve said mildly. The expensive looking bright red blender with chrome accents had at least twenty different settings, and Pepper was right. He pushed the same one each time no matter what he was making.

“If Tony hears that you're ignoring the full potential of one of his inventions, what do you think he's going to do, Steve?” Pepper looked like an red-headed imp at the moment despite her hair being in an elegant twist and dressed up in her fancy duds. She always managed to balance her ability to be organized and efficient and perceptive with this hint of a freckled-faced pony-tailed girl who liked to have fun.

“Mmm. Pout.” He added thoughtfully, “and whine about it.”

“I rest my case,” Pepper said, concentrating on her coffee.

“I believe I'll accept your kind invitation, Miss Potts.” He drank down the rest of his smoothie, and refilled his glass, drinking most of it.

“Steve?” Pepper looked at him seriously. “Tony didn't say why you were thinking of going to England, just that it was something difficult and personal. Is there anything I can do?”

Steve sighed. “Pepper, that's very nice of you, but I'm okay. I had a decision to make regarding someone I care about, and I've made it.”

“You know you can talk to me, Steve. And I won't share it with Tony if you ask me not to say anything.”

“Thank you,” he said, meaning it. “It won't be necessary though, and there's no reason to keep anything to myself now.” And yet, he still hesitated to tell her. Pepper quietly waited for him and after a few moments he gathered himself to explain. “There was a woman I met, during the war. I would have asked her to marry me, if things had turned out differently.”

“Oh, Steve.”

He nodded, acknowledging her concern. “Her name was Peggy Carter, and Tony knew her when he was a boy. She helped to found the organization that became S.H.I.E.L.D. She's alive, but her mind, well. She has Alzheimer's. I didn't want to cause her confusion or bring up an old wound, so I hesitated about letting her know I was alive. She's not able to follow the news anymore, according to her granddaughter.”

“She had a family then.” Pepper reached out a hand and he held it gently.

“She married,” he said softly, “and by all accounts had a good life.”

“You've been thinking this over for months, then.” 

He gave her hand a light squeeze and let her go. “I have. I had to ask myself if I had the right to selfishly walk back into her life after all this time. But I've missed her so much. I just wasn't sure what would be best for her, for me.”

“You've decided to see her?” It wasn't a question, what Pepper asked, not really.

“I have. I kept thinking of what Betty Ross told me.” He paused, remembering a letter sent to him by the woman who'd been so kind to him when he'd needed to talk. “Well, Betty Sampson. She's married with a baby boy now.”

“Betty Ross? Bruce Banner's ex-girlfriend?” Pepper's expression had turned uneasy.

“I went to see her about the video Tony produced, and I asked her if she wished that Bruce hadn't come back into her life,” Steve said.

“You mean when the Hulk kidnapped her and took her into the Appalachian Mountains?” Pepper shuddered. “She must have been so terrified.”

“Bruce saved her, Pepper.”

“There's a monster in Bruce Banner, one that he can't control all the time,” Pepper said, “I remember what Natasha told me, Steve. Doctor Banner couldn't stop himself from transforming on the Helicarrier.”

“Betty Ross has never been scared of him.” Steve looked Pepper in the eyes. “Regardless of his size and skin color, Betty sees Bruce.”

“How can she?” Pepper sounded so disbelieving. “When he's the Hulk and filled with rage? he's killed people, Steve. He could have killed her.”

“People have been killed by him.” He knew how tormented Bruce had felt about that. “It's a terrible burden for him, but Pepper, they were people who attacked him.”

“She might see the man inside the monster, but when I look at the man, I see the monster.” Pepper's lips thinned down into a tight line.

Steve said earnestly, hoping that he could make Pepper understand. “Betty just sees Bruce, no matter what his form. I see a man who was lied to about the project he was working on. When he decided to run that experiment on himself, he thought he was working on research that would save lives. General Ross didn't tell him what the project was really about, that it was based on the same research that changed me, but he approved what Bruce did to himself and then covered up that approval. General Ross and his cohorts are responsible for the Hulk being born, not Bruce. It wasn't his fault, Pepper.”

“I know that's true, but he's still a monster,” she whispered.

“General Ross is the monster,” Steve said evenly. “Don't judge Bruce by what he looks like when he changes; the Hulk just wants to be left alone. We asked him to fight with us, and he did. Bruce did. We owe Bruce.”

“I know he saved Tony,” Pepper said, her blue eyes wide. “I'm thankful for that, but Steve, we've talked about this before, and I still feel the same way. I'm sorry, but Bruce Banner scares me because I can't know when and if he's going to become violent, filled with mindless rage. I've seen the videos. The Hulk could have turned on the Avengers as easily as he helped you and Tony. I feel sorry for him, I do. Maybe he was a nice man before that experiment, but I can't trust him. Not like I do you and Tony and Natasha and Clint.”

“I'm sorry you feel that way. Bruce deserves better, but unfortunately, too many people feel like you do.” Good people, Steve thought, like Pepper. People who felt a primal terror at seeing the Hulk.

She gave him a somber look. “You're still coming with us to London, aren't you?”

“I think so, barring any crisis that I'm needed for.” He swirled what was left of the smoothie in his glass and then put it down next to the blender. “You know, Betty said she had no regrets seeing Bruce again, although it was very bitter-sweet for both of them. They got the chance to say goodbye. See, she never knew what had happened to Bruce, and she was afraid he was dead. I just hope that Peggy feels the same way.”

“She must have loved you very much,” Pepper said, sympathy emanating from her. “If it was me, I'd want to know that you hadn't died.”

Steve raised his chin. “It was one of the hardest thing I had to face, after I woke up, that I had lost her. The calender told me it had been decades, but for me, it was only days ago that we'd made that date to go dancing. Peggy Carter was special. Betty Ross sees Bruce whether he's the Hulk or the scientist. Peggy was the same. She saw me, whether I was that skinny small kid from Brooklyn or Captain America.”

“She sounds like a wonderful person, Steve.” Pepper smiled warmly at him. “I'd better get going.” She drank the rest of her coffee and placed the mug on the counter. 

“Allow me, Miss Potts.” Steve carefully lifted her off the counter and set her down on the floor. 

“I'll email about the details of the trip,” she said, and smoothed down her dress.

“Pepper,” he called before she stepped out of the kitchen. “I hope someday that I can change your mind about Bruce.”

“Not as long as he can change into the Hulk. You know,” she hesitated and then said, “I liked the man that I met here in the tower, but as long as the Hulk is a part of him, then I don't feel safe with Bruce Banner being anywhere near me or the people I love. I'm sorry, Steve, but that's how I feel.”

“All right. Pepper, have a good day and tell Tony I said thanks for the invitation.”

Once Pepper had left, he finished off the rest of the smoothie and washed out the blender. Pepper was their canary in the mine when it came to the public's opinion about Bruce. And judging from today's conversation, they still had a long way to go. He made a mental note to check with JARVIS about how the petition to give Bruce amnesty from past charges was going, and to see if the last survey showed which PR campaign was ahead, the Avenger's or General Ross's.

Soon, he would see Peggy, trace with his eyes the lines time had drawn on her face and on her capable hands. He remembered how she could take apart her Thompson rifle and put it back together quickly and efficiently. How she would cradle a metal cup full of tea. The way she would smooth back her hair. 

Her granddaughter, Janie, had said that she might not recognize him. She might not welcome his hug, or feel comfortable holding his hand. If that happened, he would at least be able to tell her that he had brought her a message from Steve Rogers.

_He loved you very much, Miss Carter._

* * *


	13. I'll Be Seeing You

**Peggy Carter's residence. St. Ives, Cambridgeshire, England.**

“Grandma? You've got visitors.” Peggy shook off the drowsy feeling that had stolen over her and cocked an eyebrow at the young woman who had opened the door and strode inside the room. The girl was tall, dark-haired, and carried herself well. Good muscle tone, too. Now about her reflexes...

Snatching the mug off the table by her chair, she flung it at the girl, who caught it easily. “You trying to take my head off, Grandma?”

“Just testing your reflexes. Ever thought about joining the war effort? The Allies could use a woman like you. Think about it, won't you?” Peggy said, because she was always on the look out for possible recruits. 

“Sure, Grandma. Say, how about I put some music on?” The girl crossed the sunny room to a side table and picked up an album. She held it up for her to see. “How about some Tommy Dorsey? I hear he's pretty good.”

“I'd like that. But you can drop the grandma nickname; I'm only twenty-three, and I'm not ready to trade in my gun for knitting needles. Call me Peggy.” She smiled to take the sting out her remark. There was something about this young girl. She reminded her a bit of her cousin Ellen, and Ellen had been as tough as they came. But not tougher than the German bomb that had killed her during the London Blitz. 

“Okay, Peggy. You got it. My name's Janie and there's a couple of men here to see you. Something about the war, I think.” The girl slid the record out of its sleeve and soon the strains of _I'll Be Seeing You_ filled the air. 

“I'll show your visitors in now.” Jane held up the mug. “I'll make a round of tea, too.”

“Thank you.” Sighing, because she felt rather exhausted, she wryly speculated that she might have known her leave from the SSR would be cut short. She wondered who had been sent to fetch her back. 

The answer to that question was answered as soon as she spotted the smaller man's goatee and his unruly dark hair when he entered the sitting room. 

Standing slowly up, she said, “Howard Stark, are you doing Doctor Erskine's errands then? I suppose my leave is up.”

Howard crossed to her and took her hands; leaning down, he kissed her cheek, his goatee scratching a bit on her face. “I'm afraid so, Peggy. The SSR knew I was in the area, asked me to bring you the news. But you're still on vacation today. You don't go back till tomorrow.”

She cast her eyes meaningfully at the tall, blond man in the American Army uniform who had followed Howard into the sitting room. “Howard?” She stood slowly up, watching Howard's companion.

Howard swallowed, an odd expression on his face. “This is my very good friend Captain Steven Rogers, Peg. He's got clearance. He's working on Project Rebirth along with Doctor Erskine.”

Captain Rogers stepped forward and extended a hand. When she took it, warm and large in her own, she felt him trembling. She squeezed his hand in sympathy. The look on his face, she'd seen that same expression on so many soldiers. This man had seen combat, had lost people. 

“Miss Carter.” She could see the terrible strain on his face as he forced himself to regain control. “It's a pleasure, ma'am.” 

“It's Agent, actually, but it's good to meet you, Captain. And if you're going to be working on Project Rebirth, we'll be working together.” She must remind him of someone he'd once cared for, she thought. 

“Won't you sit down?” she offered politely and slid her hand free from Captain Roger's grasp. “Do you enjoy Tommy Dorsey and Frank Sinatra, Captain? I know Howard thinks this song is drivel.”

Captain Rogers grasped her elbow, unobtrusively helping her to sit back down in the recliner. He said, with a smile that couldn't hide whatever pain he was feeling, “I know, Agent Carter. Howard didn't – doesn't – like anything he considered soppy. But I love this song, and I'm glad you do too.”

“I think,” Howard said, “that I'll go help Janie with that tea. You two kids have fun.”

Walking past Captain Rogers, he patted his arm briefly before leaving the room.

The last words to the song drifted out into the sudden quiet. _I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you._

Peggy flicked her eyes towards a second chair that shared the small table. “Have a seat, Captain.” She waited till he was sitting, his body angled towards hers to ask, “Forgive me if I'm being intrusive, but I feel that I remind you of someone, perhaps someone you lost?” She gave him a warm smile. “It's the way you're looking at me, you see. Would it help to talk about her?”

He nodded slowly, and his eyes. Well. He looked a bit lost for just a moment. He said, “It would, actually. You see, I never got the chance to tell her I loved her and I thought she was wonderful.”

“She's gone, then?” Peggy asked gently.

He looked down for a moment, obviously gathering himself to answer her, before looking her in the eyes again. “She never knew that I'd been found, that I was alive.”

“I'm sorry, Captain, for your loss.” 

“Thank you.” Diffidently, he said, “There's just so much I wish I had said to her, you know?”

“If she were here, right now, what _would_ you say to her? I've found that it helps, you see, to say those things aloud that you keep buried in your heart.” 

One thing the war had taught her was that life was too short to not act on what was the right thing to do. This man's pain, so obvious to her, needed to be lanced. So her words were a scalpel, perhaps, but afterwards she thought he might feel some relief.

He made an abortive movement towards her hand and she reached out, clasped his warm fingers. 

“I'm not her, of course. But I'd be honored to be her stand-in, Captain.”

“Steve. My name is Steve,” he said, sounding like he'd swallowed glass. 

“Then you must call me Peggy. What would you say to her, Steve, if you could?”

Steve tightened his fingers on hers. His blue eyes were intense, and rather heartbreaking. “You were the best, the absolute best. You saw me, who I am, even when everyone around me thought I would wash out and you didn't pity me. You gave me a chance to prove myself.”

She smiled encouragingly and she saw actual tears in his eyes. He must have loved this woman very much. Gently she said, “I think there's more to say, Steve. Go on, you'll feel better for it.”

His words came out in a tumble. “You were so beautiful, but you didn't care about that. You cared about being competent and smart and about doing what's right. You were clever and daring, and tough as could be and you saw awful things and they hurt you but they didn't stop you, and you did what you could to help make things better for everyone in our unit. You were an ally, a friend, and my best girl.”

He fell silent then, his head bowed. She let him grieve. This war, it tore people apart, destroyed them. Hitler and his ilk must be stopped, if things were ever to become better, so that men like Captain Rogers and the woman that he'd loved so deeply never had to be separated again. 

That dark-haired girl came into the room with a tray filled with beautiful tea cups and a matching teapot, steam rising from the spout, and a selection of treats. Howard Stark held the door open for her, his easy grin settled on his face. She should probably warn the girl about Howard, and wondered if he'd ever settle for just one woman.

She sincerely doubted it, but despite being rather a cad with the ladies, he was a good man, sincere in wanting to help with the war effort. He was brilliant, and engaging. She couldn't help but like him, even when he was acting like a git.

Steve looked up, and she patted his hand with her free one and he let go of her. As the girl put the tray on the table, Peggy asked Howard about his latest gadgets. Captain Rogers seemed like he still needed some time before joining the conversation. 

Howard raised his eyebrows at her, waggling them a little. “I've been thinking about inventing a flying car, Peg. Wouldn't that be something?”

“It would indeed; knowing you, it would quite showy. Fancy giving me a ride in it sometime?”

“You betcha.” Howard glanced at Captain Rogers, and she could see the concern flit across his face before he smothered it and gave her the smile that she'd seen land so many girls in his bed. She didn't know why he bothered to do that with her. Howard knew that she was immune to his ways, no matter how charming he acted. He winked at her and said, “How about some tea? These cookies look pretty good, too.” He deftly stole one from the platter and popped it into his mouth. 

“Over here we call them biscuits, Howard. But you're right, let's have tea. Captain Rogers, why don't you pick out another record.” That way, she thought, he could take as much time as he needed to regain his composure, his back to the rest of their little group.

Steve stood up, and she could see him straighten his shoulders as if he was getting ready to face an enemy. “I'd rather choose a song you'd like to hear, Peggy.”

Peggy blinked, and looked around the room. She didn't know where she was or who these people were. “What?” she said, “Who are you? What are you people doing here; what am I doing here?” 

A girl sitting with a dark-haired bearded man jumped up. “Hang on,” she said. “Grandma's just having a moment. Let's try this.” The girl trotted over to where a record player sat on top of a cabinet, and deftly drew out an album. 

She tensed, ready to run or to fight if these people tried to harm her, keeping a watchful eye on them. The tall blond man had his hands held out, and he said a name to her, carefully, achingly.

“Peggy?” 

She glanced at the young woman, but she didn't stop placing a record on the machine, so she must not be Peggy. Checking behind her, there was no one else in the room, just the four of them. The tall man in the uniform said that name again, and she could hear the heartbreak in his voice.

Was she Peggy? She didn't know. Someone had stolen her memories from her, she must have been drugged. Looking around for something to use as a weapon, she grabbed a spoon from the table next to her.

The sound of music filled the room, and yes, she remembered this song and the film, the sacrifices the two lovers made because of the war that was raging, and how Rick, that cynical bar owner, had done the honorable thing and sent the woman he loved away with her husband to safety in America. He'd saved his soul by doing that, she thought. He'd gone to fight then, in the war. She'd seen that movie long before she'd met Steve. Perhaps they would have a chance sometime to watch it together, when the war was over or if they could get away on leave. But the war effort needed Captain America, and sometimes what Steve Rogers needed was pushed aside.

The slow trickle of the piano notes, the husky voice singing, the words filling the silence between her and these three other people, all of it made her pause. She felt like she was on the brink of finding answers and she clutched the spoon in her hand. Why did it feel like a knife to her, why did the lyrics make her heart clench?

_It's still the same old story_  
A fight for love and glory  
A case of do or die.  
The world will always welcome lovers, 

_As time goes by._

“Agent Carter?” the soldier barked out, and yes, that was right. She was Agent Carter and she must have been compromised. She still didn't know what had happened to her and her memories were foggy. 

“I am Agent Carter, now identify yourselves,” she said, putting a snap to her tone. Then she blinked again, because one man's features were suddenly familiar.

“Howard,” she said, exasperated. “What on earth is going on?”

“Relax, Peggy,” he said. “Uh, what's the last thing you remember?”

“Going in undercover to Hydra's headquarters. Where is Doctor Erskine?” 

“You went into Castle Kauffman and rescued Doctor Erskine from General Schmidt while pretending to be a maid named Eva. That was so bad-ass,” the girl said, and then in a whisper to Howard, “I've always loved that story about Grandma.”

Grandma? She was hardly old enough to be given that nickname. But no matter. “And Doctor Erskine? I gather the mission was successful?”

The tall man in the American uniform spoke up, and she noted that his rank was Captain. “Doctor Erskine is safe; he's with the Strategic Scientific Reserve and working on Project Rebirth.”

“Why are my memories like Swiss cheese?” she said, feeling strange and suspicious. “Howard?” 

“Blame Hydra,” Howard said, “But you're okay, Peg. Just be prepared for things to go kind of blank off and on. This is Captain Steven Rogers, and this is Janie. She's in charge here. You're in a safe house till you recover.”

Captain Rogers smiled at her, but his eyes, oh. This man's heart was breaking. Perhaps it was the music playing from that movie, Casablanca, that was reminding him of someone he'd given up or lost. 

Well, if it was one thing the English excelled at, it was offering a cup of tea to those who were grieving, wisdom that had been passed down in her family from generation to generation. “Margaret,” her grandmother would tell her, “a good cup of tea can fix anything.” She placed the spoon on the table and indicated the empty chair next to her.

“Captain Rogers, won't you sit down and let me pour you some tea. My mother had a saying and I've always taken it to heart. “If you're cold, it will warm you, too heated, it will cool you.”

Captain Rogers seated himself gracefully and covered her hand with his own and stopped her words.

He said, “Depressed, it will cheer you, too excited it will calm you.” 

Surprised, she said, “It's odd that an American knows that saying.”

“An English girl I loved taught it to me, Agent Carter.” And now she understood the sadness in his eyes; he'd lost that girl and the pain of it was still tormenting him. 

Reaching over to the teapot, she carefully filled a cup, delicate porcelain decorated with a pattern of blue flowers and offered it to him. Their fingers touched as he slid the cup from her hands to his own.

He smiled at her with sadness and affection and on impulse she said, “Call me Peggy.”

* * *

Steve took a deep, shuddering breath after Janie had ushered them out the door, and Tony felt for the guy, he really did. Peggy had fallen asleep in her chair, and Janie had motioned for them to follow her out into the hallway and then into another room that seemed to be an office of sorts. There were family pictures on the wall going back for several generations. Tony's eye was drawn to a large framed photo of Peggy, probably shortly after World War II had ended, judging by her age. She was wearing a smart blue suit which showed off her figure and a bright red hat. The expression on her face was sardonic, her eyebrows raised. 

“Grandma's going to be too tired for the rest of the day to handle any more visitors, guys,” Janie said. 

“Her memory,” Steve had asked, sounding to Tony like he might shatter. “Is it always like that, changing so quickly to another time period in her life?”

“Yes. She tends to go back to the war years, though, more than the years she worked for S.H.I.E.L.D.” Janie pulled Steve down for a kiss on the cheek. “You made her happy, Captain Rogers. She always loved you, you know, even when she also loved my grandfather. Try not to be sad about Grandma. She's had a very full and active life, and a family that she loved very much and who loves her. She's not uncomfortable living with me.”

“What happens if her illness becomes worse?” Tony said. “If living with you isn't possible any more? Because say the word and I will set up a trust fund for her to handle any hospital or nursing home expenses, or home care.”

Janie turned to Tony and kissed him on the cheek, too. “Thank you, Mr. Stark. I think we're okay, though.”

“I don't understand why my father didn't set her up with funds for her care,” Tony said, scowling. “She must have started to become ill while he was still alive.”

“I think he tried, actually, from what my mother told me, but Grandma wouldn't let him.” Janie grinned at them. “She's always been independent and a role model for me and my siblings and cousins. Us girls used to play being her and we'd make our brothers and cousins be Howard Stark. I talked Johnny Kelly into being you, Captain Rogers, so I could kiss him. Well, so Agent Carter could kiss Captain America.”

Tony laughed at the expression on Steve's face. The guy still had a hard time acknowledging that generations of kids had grown up idealizing him. Those radio plays about Cap and the Howling Commandos and Peggy Carter and the comic books had only added to the legend.

Janie laughed, too. “And now I've kissed Iron Man and the real Captain America. I can't wait to razz my cousin Sharon about that.” 

“But seriously,” Tony said, “if you need anything at all, call Pepper Potts at Stark Industries and it's yours. My dad was good friends with Peggy Carter, and I remember her visiting us sometimes. She was always kind to me.”

 _Call me Aunt Peggy,_ she'd told Tony when he was just a little snot. She'd always been interested in what he was learning and she'd taken him out with her to ride the ferry to Staten Island and to buy him ice cream. At the time, he wondered why his body guards hadn't had to go along, but when he was older he'd realized that Agent Carter was worth ten bodyguards when it came to watching out for someone. Hey, he'd read the comics, too, but his dad had always said the radio plays were drivel and that Peggy Carter had never been a damsel in distress. He used to say they got that wrong, that it was Peg who would do the rescuing.

“Okay, Mr. Stark.” 

“Hey, kid, call me Tony. And he's Steve. We're practically related,” and Tony gently elbowed her.

“You got it, Tony. Steve?” 

Steve had been quiet, his eyes on the photo of Peggy wearing her red hat. Tony figured he was lost in memories, but Steve turned to Janie. “Yes?”

“How are you doing? I can't imagine how hard this must have been for you.”

Steve didn't answer her except with a smile that never reached his eyes, and Tony decided it was time to go. He left after getting Janie to agree to send weekly updates on how Peggy was doing to JARVIS. 

Steve stayed quiet as they headed back to London, leaving St. Ives behind. Finally after nearly an hour of silence he said, with an upraised eyebrow, “Blame Hydra?”

“Peggy would accept that Hydra had injected her or sprayed her with something that messed with her memories a lot better than explaining that she's in her nineties and has Alzheimer’s disease,” Tony said, and whipped around a curve on the M-11.

“Good thinking, Mr. Stark,” Steve said, and Tony could see him making an effort to put his sadness behind him. “So, I guess I'll be taking your best girl to the British Museum tomorrow.”

“I'm coming, too,” Tony protested. “Right after the Robotics Conference break out groups.”

“Unless you get too intrigued by an idea or want to pick someone's brain or recruit them for Stark Industries and forget about Pepper and me,” Steve said, but he'd thrown in a teasing tone, so Tony knew he wasn't criticizing him. 

“I see Miss Potts has been conferring with you,” Tony grumbled. “Okay, I won't promise, and yes, I have been known to get distracted and forget commitments, but I'm going to try because I told Pep I'd spend this time with her. And you,” he added hastily, not wanting Steve to feel like a third wheel. “We want to spend time with you, too, and you know, you're an artist so it'll be like having a native guide at the museum.”

“I'm looking forward to it, Tony,” Steve said. “And if you forget to come, well, there's always the next day or two.”

“I'm coming, sheesh. But if I forget, not saying that I will, but if I do, just come back and get me, okay.”

“Okay. And Tony, thanks for today. You made this easier for me by being there, and I appreciate it.” Steve reached over and clasped Tony's shoulder. “You're a good friend.”

“Hey, what are fellow Avengers for,” Tony said, with an airy tone, but Steve's words warmed him. “Let's give Pepper a call and meet for dinner.”

* * *

It was, Tony thought as he jogged up the wide stone steps into the British Museum, going to be hard to pry Pepper and Steve away from the exhibits tonight. Being Friday, the place stayed open till 8:30 and he was sure Steve and Pep were planning to make every minute count. 

He'd like to talk the art lovers into having some fun tonight on their last evening in London, something between the high-brow atmosphere of the Ritz casino and the free-for-all at the Casino at the Empire, if they went out gambling. Not that they would. While Cap might play poker with pennies, he couldn't see him enjoying throwing away money the way Tony used to do, even if he would let Tony bankroll him. Maybe they could duck into a pub and play darts, eat fish and chips or bangers and mash, whatever that was. Something English. Somewhere where people were enjoying themselves.

Tomorrow they were flying to Ireland. Steve's parents had emigrated from there and after that heartbreaking visit with Peggy Carter Tony and Pepper had both thought it might be a good distraction. Steve wasn't an overly talkative guy, not like Tony was, but he'd been very quiet for the last two days after returning from seeing Peggy at her granddaughter's home. Tony had actually had to ask him to talk about some of the art work they'd seen, because of Steve's lost expression that kept showing back up like a hard-luck relative. Reliving the past instead of working towards the future wasn't going to help Steve to come to terms with the way his life was now. He'd had friends and loved ones once and most of them were dead, but he had friends and people who could love him right now and talking about his losses wasn't going to be as useful as reminding Steve about that.

Tony was an engineer, a mechanic, the fix-it guy. He, with Pepper's help, would use his skill-sets for Steve. Distract him, let him know he wasn't alone.

So, Tony'd turned away the people at the Robotics conference who wanted his time for the last two afternoons and evenings and he did the same thing tonight, even though some of those robotics engineers had some fascinating stuff going on.

The last time he'd texted Pepper, she'd said she and Steve were in the prints and drawings room, and that Steve was armed with a sketchpad. Tony crossed the airy, open area that housed places to eat and restrooms and looked up at the wide domed ceiling briefly, appreciating the architecture. He headed for the North stairs, breezing through the Living and Dying exhibit room. It was almost impossible to pass through this room, with its different depictions of how people had imagined the afterworld and how they dealt with dead bodies, without remembering the corpses of the Chitauri that had littered the New York streets. What did those fallen soldiers think happened after they'd died? 

His own moment of acceptance as he'd hovered in cosmic blackness had been peaceful. In the end, it wasn't a bad way to die, out there in the vastness of space, brilliant stars in his every view.

He'd stared at the ever-lovin' mother ship before him and held his last breath that the nuke Fury had sent him after would blow it the fuck up and stop the alien invaders. He hadn't raged against the dying of the light, just accepted that this was the cost of saving his world, at least for a while. He'd hoped Cap and the rest of the Avengers could stop the Chitauri, that the breach could be closed the way Selvig and Natasha had thought. 

He'd imagined that Steve would be proud of him, for choosing to lay down on the wire. He'd still wished he could have just cut it, though. There was nothing wrong with a win-win scenario. Stop the bad guys and still live to fight another day. And he had. He'd beaten the odds by falling back down to Earth before the hole in the sky closed above him and by having a huge green man catch him and save him from being red jelly in a tin can.

Bruce couldn't die. It still gave him a jolt to remember how the guy, quiet and unassuming, had blurted out how he'd tried to shoot himself and how  
the Hulk had blocked his attempt. Probably attempts. He'd gotten low, was how Bruce had phrased his depression. 

As he left the exhibit behind and climbed the stairs he hoped that wherever Bruce was, that he wasn't feeling lost in darkness again. 

* * *

Pepper looked gorgeous in a green dress that was shot through with gold. Her hair was down and she looked delectable. Tony caught her eye as he approached where she was standing gazing at a drawing that looked like it had been done in the middle ages.

“You, Miss Potts, are by far the most beautiful item in this room,” he murmured to her and her lips twitched into a smile. 

“Mr. Stark, I'm happy that you could join us,” she said primly, “Knowing how much you adore art.”

He stepped close to her and dropped a light kiss on her lips. Then he smirked at her, enjoying playing this familiar game. “I like what I like. You know, there was a street vendor I saw on my way in, he was selling paintings of characters from movies and video games and oh, yes, the Avengers. Want to buy one of Iron Man?”

Pepper chuckled. “I think you've got enough paintings of Iron Man.”

Tony struck a slight pose. “Well, since I am known for my modesty and restraint, as well as my good looks and charm, I guess I'll pass up that painting. I think I'll buy the ones of the rest of the team, though. We can put them up in the theater room. They have a certain kitschy appeal.”

“If you want portraits of the team, why not ask Steve to do them?”

Tony dropped the bantering tone. “Kidding aside, that actually sounds like a good idea. You think he'd go for it?”

“I don't know, Tony. You'd have to ask him.” She tucked a few strands of her red hair behind her ear, and Tony had to restrain himself from kissing her there. Pepper would consider that over the line for a place like this. 

He did reach out and trace the edge of her upper ear. Pepper allowed it, with a small intimate smile. Coughing a little, dropping his hand back to his side he said, “I think I will. At the right time. He drew the Howling Commandos, after all.”

“Yes,” she said, “and I loved his exhibit at the Met. He's been sketching some of the drawings here.”

“So he's been okay?”

“I think so.” Pepper nudged him and he wrapped an arm around her waist. “I think coming to the museum was a good idea.”

They shifted to talking about their day so far, about what he'd thought of the convention and the several bright kids he'd met that he'd like to recruit for Stark Industries. He'd texted her the names at the time and she'd contacted JARVIS about background checks. Pepper wasn't along solely to gawk at the exhibits. She'd had some business to conduct for Stark Industries, but she'd concluded that this morning while Steve had gone on a long, long run. It had gone well, she'd said. 

After brushing Pepper's hair away from her neck and dropping a kiss on her nape, he told her he was going to wander over to where Steve was sketching at the far end of the room. 

* * * 

“Mmmm,” Tony said, eying the drawing Steve was capturing in his sketchpad. 

Steve looked up, not looking surprised to see Tony there at all. Of course he wouldn't be, despite Tony walking over very quietly. The guy had enhanced hearing after all. It didn't do to try to plot anything when Steve was anywhere near the vicinity, as Clint and Tony could testify. Steve had put an end to their prank war by reversing the tricks they had intended to pull on each other. Tony grinned, though, remembering how Clint had sputtered when his version of a pie in the face had homed in on Clint instead of Tony. Steve had enlisted JARVIS to reverse the programming of the drone with its payload of gooey cream sweetness Clint had gleefully sent after Tony. Clint had somersaulted and pulled other acrobatics but without his bow to shoot the drone down, in the end he'd been bombed and covered with the stuff. Tony had laughed till he had hiccups, and Natasha had sent the two of them superior looks. Steve had just said, “Ready to accept a truce?” and he and Clint had given up. For now. 

“Hey, Tony,” Steve said, then returned to using his pencil to capture the woman's stance and expression. 

Tony stared at the drawing of the woman wearing a ton of fancy frippery, and he began chuckling. 

Steve raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, man, she's definitely got a 'come and get me, big boy,' look on her face. I mean, I know that look. Boy, do I know it. And I bet she's got quite a figure under all those layers of dresses and petticoats. I wonder how long it took whoever she's giving that 'fuck me now' expression to strip her down to just one layer.”

Steve raised an eyebrow again. “Tony,” he started to say, but Tony cut him off.

“I know, I know what you're going to say. Language, right? And you know, I don't do anything about those looks I get anymore. I mean, Pepper's my girl and I'm not going to screw up what we have, not for a cheap roll in the hay.” He made a grimace at Steve. “Roll in the hay, did they even say that back in your day?”

Steve looked up from where he was sitting in a chair in the ornate room, sketchpad on his knee and said mildly, “First, I'm sure you did and do get those kinds of inviting looks. Second, I believe you about being faithful to Miss Potts. Third, yes, watch your language, we're in public. Fourth, people did use 'roll in the hay' as an euphemism for having sex back in the forties. Fifth, I agree with you about the lady in the drawing's expression. In fact, the artist, Thomas Gainsborough, also agreed with you. He described her as having a 'fascinating leer.'”

“A fascinating leer,” Tony repeated. “So after you're done copying it, want to talk Pepper into going out to a pub for darts and dinner.”

“When the museum closes, sure, if that's what Pepper wants to do. In the meantime, you should see some of the drawings that are more in your line of work.”

It was Tony's turn to raise his eyebrows. “Such as?”

Steve pointed to his left. “Since the media likes to call you the Da Vinci of our times, you might enjoy seeing what the original's blueprints for instruments of war looks like. He sketched out a version of a tank, although it was never built.”

“No kidding. And as far as media nicknames goes, I like being called that much, much more than the Merchant of Death.” Tony shrugged. “I'm not much for art, though. I let Pepper handle anything to do with it.”

“A wise decision. She's very knowledgeable. I've learned a lot from her, from discussing what we've seen here.” Steve glanced at the drawing and then added a line to his own sketch.

“You doing okay, Steve?”

Nodding, Steve said, “With a little help from my friends.”

“Hey, that's--”

“The Beatles. Written for Ringo Starr and sung by him. With a little help from the band.” Steve grinned at him. “JARVIS has been helping me improve my cultural literacy. Now scram, and let me study this fascinating leer this young lady of bygone years is wearing.”

* * *

They stopped on their way out of the museum, so Tony could buy Clint and Natasha T-shirts, although the museum was too classy to have those, “I visited this cool place, and I only brought you back a lousy T-shirt so you can remember you didn't get to go” shirts. Pepper chose a pretty one for Nat that had an ancient Egyptian necklace printed around the neckline and Tony picked out one for Clint that had a couple of Egyptian cat statutes on it. Probably Clint liked cats. He liked dogs, at least. 

Pepper also bought one for Steve, an arty looking white T-shirt with the Rosetta stone printed on the front. That inspired Tony to include the rest of the Avengers. For Thor, he chose a black T-shirt that had Egyptian symbols all over it and kind of looked like something a biker might wear. He chose a blue T-shirt with an enormous wave across the front for Phil Coulson, AKA Agent. Clint, AKA Blabbermouth, had said that Phil would talk about taking a vacation on the beach in Tahiti after one of their particularly hard missions. 

After Tony had bought Pepper a black Day of the Dead skinny T-shirt, Steve listened to him pondering about what to get Bruce. Finally, Steve pulled a plain black polo shirt that only had a small emblem of the Rosetta stone on the breast off a shelf and handed it to Tony.

“Bruce doesn't like to stand out,” Steve said quietly. Not quietly enough, though, because Pepper obviously heard him, from the closed down expression on her face. She really didn't like any reminder about Bruce being a part of the Avengers. She didn't say anything though, and Tony paid for the shirt along with the others. He was surprised when Steve handed him a bag as they left the gift shop. Looking into it, he smiled.

“The picture on the T-shirt is from the Book of the Dead,” Steve said, pointing at the bag. “It looked interesting, so I thought it would suit an interesting kind of guy.”

“Aww, shucks, grandpa. You shouldn't have.”

Steve lightly clipped Tony on the back of his head. “You know, I haven't worked out the training routine for next week yet. Keep it up, young whippersnapper, and we'll find out just how tough you are.”

Before Tony could throw something witty and sparkling back at him, both his and Steve's cell phone rang with the ring tone that meant JARVIS was calling.

Steve and Tony's eyes met as JARVIS explained that Bruce Banner had been positively ID'ed in Managua, Nicaragua and had just walked voluntarily into a hostage situation. 

Tony shoved his phone in his jeans pocket after instructing JARVIS to continue to monitor and update them on the situation and to contact Coulson, Nat, and Clint without jeopardizing their current mission, glancing at Cap and getting a nod of approval. 

Pepper looked at him, a little sad, a little proud. “I guess Iron Man and Captain America will be taking the jet?”

“Yes,” he said, and dropped his bag on the museum floor, “Sorry, babe. It's Bruce. He's surfaced and he's got trouble.” He drew her to him and kissed her softly. “I'll make it up to you, I promise.”

She smiled at him, her eyes glistening. “Another share or two in Avenger's Tower? You know that's what everyone's calling it now, not Stark Tower.”

“I kind of like it,” Tony said, and let her go. “Half a percent. My final offer.”

“Accepted, Mr. Stark. Will that be all?”

“That will be all, Miss Potts.” But he drew her back to him and kissed her once more before letting her go. 

“Be careful,” she warned, looking at them both. “I don't like this at all.”

Steve nodded. “Hopefully we'll get there before Hydra can make a move. We know they've been looking for Bruce. And the hostage takers are upset men, not criminals. Probably when they sober up they'll surrender.”

She shook her head. “I meant, be careful about the Hulk.”

Tony said confidently, “Bruce won't fight us; we're his pals.”

“The Hulk is unpredictable,” Pepper answered, picking up the bag Tony had dropped. “If Doctor Banner changes into that monster, you won't know how he'll react. So, please, don't go into this fight thinking he's on your side. Or trusting him. Please.”

She turned then, and walked away to another exit and Steve laid a hand on Tony's shoulder.

“Let's go, Iron Man.”

* * *

**Briefing Room Three, Helicarrier.**

“Sir. Banner's been ID'ed in Managua.” Hill manipulated the virtual controls floating in front of her and the air in front of them exploded into color and sound. Fury stood up and moved next to her, standing shoulder to shoulder; they watched silently as the newscaster on the scene of the hostage situation explained that a group of Americans had been taken hostage inside of the Palacio Nacional de Cultura an hour ago. An American doctor had been allowed to enter the building to provide medical care. 

Fury rubbed his chin as the footage showed a man walking towards the ornately decorated building, carrying two large duffel bags over his shoulders. His name was shouted by a reporter and he turned, startled. The camera zoomed in; Banner was dressed in battered jeans and a red T-shirt that was too large for his frame. He was thin but looked healthy enough. He didn't look half-starved, unlike some of the photos of Banner when he'd been on the run.

Banner's dark hair had gotten longer, curls tangling together, an unruly mess partly falling over his forehead. His eyes had widened as the automatic reflex of reacting to his name caught up with his brain. Fury could see his thoughts playing out on his face. Saw the second when he made the decision to stay and not run. Banner turned his back on the camera and made his way into the building.

On the screen the newscaster was talking about the Hulk, and a montage of images of the Hulk destroying helicopters and battling the Chitauri flashed across the screen.

Fury frowned. This was not how they had wanted to reacquire their runaway Avenger. This was going to be a fucking media circus, not the stealthy mission that would have disappeared their asset into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s custody. Screw Ross's domestic terrorist charges, that was a thin excuse to get the Hulk for experimentation to create more supersoldiers. It was doomed to fail, and they'd just end up with more monsters to deal with, like Blonsky.

Once S.H.I.E.L.D. had Banner he could talk the good doctor into seeing the advantages of being one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secrets. He could join the Avengers for missions if they needed a heavy hitter and then disappear back into one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hidden facilities. Several had been constructed to hold the Hulk, if he had a temper tantrum. And the drug Hill had briefed him on months before would stop the Hulk if he decided not to cooperate. Banner could be made to see reason.

Fury froze the screen on that iconic image of the Hulk catching Iron Man as he was falling unconscious back to earth. “Banner's not going to hulk out, not on purpose. That buys us a little time. You've sent a team?” 

Hill nodded. “Not Barton or Romanov. They're compromised. Quartermain's flying down to take charge with additional agents. Local agents should be arriving at the Plaza within minutes.”

“Ross has scrambled his men?”

“Yes sir. There's Army personnel on site, but it will take him hours to assemble a Hulkbuster team. And we know Hydra will make a move. It's going to be a free-for-all.” She hesitated, listening to her headset “Sir, Coulson's been apprised.”

He narrowed his eye at her. “You think I should order the Avengers to stand down.”

“Yes sir,” she said firmly. Maria Hill never had minced her words with him. “They won't turn Banner over to Army custody and I doubt that they'd cooperate with us to hide Banner, either. They're going to break the law, sir. Spectacularly.”

“It's a stupid law, Hill.” 

She raised her eyebrow slightly, her version of an eye roll. “What are your orders, sir?”

“No direct conflict with Ross. If the Army's not in the picture and Banner can be persuaded to come in, then take him to a Hulk equipped safe house. If he declines, trank his ass. The Council won't let us go toe to toe with Ross but if we can make Banner disappear, they'll stay hands off.”

“As long as our involvement is unknown,” she clarified, and he knew she was mentally organizing what this mission would need to be successful.

“That's correct.”

“If Hydra gets to him first...” She was asking if they would risk their own operatives to retrieve Banner if he was captured.

“Do you really think I'd let an asset like the Hulk be used by unfriendlies?”

“You're a good poker player, sir. I suspect Banner believed you about being on his own,” Hill said. 

“Banner doesn't do much bluffing. He folds. He runs.” 

“He's run into a dead-end this time.”

“Walked into it with his eyes wide open,” Fury countered. “Man's shown he has a habit of doing that.” And that was why he'd believed that Banner had it in him to be on the team of superheroes Fury had brought together. Despite living in desperation and hiding for years, Banner had come to the Helicarrier with his eyes wide open, then too, to help if he could, despite the danger of being incarcerated by S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Sir. The Avengers.”

“Are a wild card. Get me Coulson on the comm.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tommy Dorsey band with Frank Sinatra singing I'll Be Seeing You.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ofa8CAQUn4g)
> 
>  
> 
>  [As Time Goes By, sung by Dooley Wilson from the film Casablanca.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d22CiKMPpaY)
> 
>  
> 
> [The lady with the fascinating leer](http://www.britishmuseum.org/explore/highlights/highlight_objects/pd/t/thomas_gainsborough,_portrait.aspx)
> 
> [Da Vinci's drawing of war machines that were never built](http://www.britishmuseum.org/explore/highlights/highlight_objects/pd/l/leonardo_da_vinci,_military_ma.aspx)


	14. Chapter 14

“Bruce,” Miguel said, looking up at him from where he was kneeling at Joaquin's side, pressing down on a bleeding wound on his younger brother's chest. “Thank you for coming, my friend.”

Daniel had led him, stumbling, occasionally taking another swig from the bottle of cheap rum he held, through the ornate hallways to the museum within the Palacio Nacional de Cultura. They'd left Alejandro guarding the main entrance. Daniel had waved his gun around, occasionally aiming at various statues or stained glass windows, while pouring his heart out about the death of his father. 

Bruce took in the group of mostly kids, sitting down on the floor around the skeleton of a whale, some holding hands. The tour group he'd been told about, who picked the wrong day to visit the capitol of Nicaragua. 

“Miguel,” Bruce said, dropping his two shoulder bags of supplies on the floor, “I'll do what I can, but your brother needs to be in a hospital. Is he the only one injured?”

He knelt down next to the wounded man and unzipped a bag, pulled sterile gloves on before deftly nudging Miguel's hands away with his elbow from the bloody bunched up T-shirt that had been used as a makeshift pressure bandage.

“Joaquin's wounds are the most serious, but there are others who are hurt.” Miguel said, sounding worried, sounding scared. “No one else was shot. One of those American kids tripped and broke an arm. I don't know, there are others, ones who tried to stop us. Nobody else is _dying!_

“Okay. I got this,” Bruce said, trying to project calm while he examined the wound. “How about you bring the rest of the injured over. You got a plan for ending this?”

Miguel shrugged. “First, we make enough noise that the world will hear my father's story. Then, we see.”

“The media is out there. You got a story to tell, they'll listen. Broadcast it to the world, but you'd better work fast. Soldiers are out there, too, and pretty soon they'll have a lot of help and incentive to rush this place.”

“For the American children?’ Migual raised his eyebrows, sounding uneasy. “They would risk their lives in an attack?”

Bruce shook his head. “No. Me. They'll be coming for me.” 

* * *  
The next thirty minutes were a fast paced dance that reminded Bruce of working in an ER again. One of the teachers, a tall, thin black woman, volunteered that she’d had some advanced first aid training and he gratefully accepted her offer of help.

Together, they stabilized Joaquin’s bleeding and set up an IV drip with saline and antibiotics. He checked on Joaquin in between assessing the kids and the one museum staff member who had tried to keep them safe and hadn’t run out of the building to save his own ass. Joaquin’s blood pressure was still too low, but it wasn’t dangerously low anymore. The teenaged boy with the broken arm was treated, a simple fracture of the humerus that Bruce was able to align again. The ends of the bones weren’t exposed, and he’d done as much as he could without access to an X-ray machine. Miguel allowed Tamara, the teacher pressed into service as his nurse, to go with him to bring ice back from a kitchen area and together they made up ice packs for Joe with his broken arm and for the others who had gotten scraped or banged up by the idiots who had decided to honor their father and uncle by terrorizing a bunch of kids. 

He’d finished a make shift splint and sling for Joe, re-checked Joaquin’s blood pressure, passed out Tylenol to those who complained of pain, and asked that Miguel allow the kids to eat sandwiches or whatever could be scrounged from the kitchen. Two of the teens were diabetics, and all of them were scared and shaky. 

Bruce walked over to where Miguel and Daniel were also wolfing down sandwiches. Miguel, at least, was sobering up a little. Daniel was still drinking, and if Bruce was reading him right would be passing out soon. Memories of his father swam up from the room in his mind he preferred to keep locked, the way his father would slur and stagger until collapsing. Daniel was almost there and he’d have to be placed in a recovery position when he did. 

“Miguel, time’s running out. This isn’t going to be a long drawn out hostage situation. If you want to control what’s going to happen, you’ve got to make your demands now. Believe me, you don’t want to deal with the people who are coming.”

For some damn reason, Miguel kept stalling off the hostage negotiators when they talked on the phone. Bruce couldn’t leave until the hostages were safe, these kids who were caught up in a grievance that started before they were even born. He also didn’t want these grieving men to die here in a bloody showdown.

He could hear excited whispering from the group of kids and practically feel the stares he knew were trained on him. One of the kids had an Avenger’s T-shirt on, with pictures of the team. And the Hulk.

That kid was an Avengers’ fan, and he cursed again the videos that had been released that identified Bruce Banner, MD and PH.D, doctor of biophysics, as the Hulk. Almost certainly that boy had seen them, if he was interested in the Avengers. Bruce had been made.

Miguel hadn’t asked him what he meant by saying that people would be coming for him, the quiet man who worked in a sewing machine factory by day and treated the sick at night. Probably Miguel figured he was on the run. 

Well, Miguel wasn’t wrong. 

Tamara got up from where she had been sitting with the kids, and slowly approached Bruce. He sighed. Her entire body language was wary as she approached Miguel and him. She wouldn’t look him in the eyes at all, and asked quietly in Spanish if she could talk to Miguel privately.

Miguel shrugged and motioned for her to cross the room, still watching the hostages, his gun in his hand. 

She kept her eyes on Bruce the entire time she was talking to Miguel, who started to laugh. 

Grasping Tamara by the arm, he pulled her with him till he was standing next to Bruce again. Tamara’s eyes were wide and she had broken out in a sweat. Bruce smiled at her, just a small harmless expression that he hoped conveyed he wasn’t a monster. 

But of course he was. 

“Bruce, you must hear who these ridiculous American children think you are. You, who have never said a cross word to anyone in the neighborhood. Woman, this man has the patience of a saint. He has done nothing but good for me and mine. And, he’s, well look at him.” Miguel dropped Tamara’s arm and she immediately started edging away. He threw an arm around Bruce, and shook him, starting to laugh again. “There’s nothing to him. Too thin, my father used to say. He always told me to give his doctor a good meal before he left our home. How could he possibly be--”

Carlos came running into the room, shouting, “Miguel, Miguel.” There was a torrent of Spanish, that Bruce only caught about every tenth word, but he comprehended what Carlos was so wound up about when he looked at Bruce and said “Hulk.” 

Tamara evidently was fluent enough to know exactly what Carlos had told his cousin. He could see her gather her courage, before lifting her chin and looking him in the eye.

“Is it true, what the kids think, and what the news reporters are saying outside? He,” and she pointed to Carlos, “turned on a TV and heard what they’re saying, the news people. Are you Bruce Banner? Are you the Hulk?”

Bruce spread his hands out in a conciliatory gesture. “I’m not going to hurt anybody. But Miguel, you need to negotiate your way out of here, for Joaquin and your brothers and cousins. You can let the kids go. You’ve got me for a hostage and the people who are coming for me now that I’ve been recognized will trade you immunity and let you tell your story in exchange for me. But you’ve got to do this now. If you don’t, they’ll come for me anyway, and you, Tamara, the kids, everyone will just be collateral damage.”

Miguel shook his head, not negating what Bruce had said, at least Bruce didn’t think so, but in complete denial of what Bruce had just obliquely admitted. 

“No, you, you cannot be a monster! You’re so small, how could you change into a giant green man! This, this is some kind of trick.”

“It’s not a trick, Miguel. I am the Hulk. Do you really need proof?” 

Carlos trained his gun on Bruce. “Don’t shoot me, Carlos. It won’t hurt me, but it will tick me off and I’ll change. And then, I’m not in charge of the show. The Hulk will be. _I don’t want anybody here to get hurt!_ ”

“I don’t believe it,” Miguel said. “Perhaps you look like this Bruce Banner and you are trying to trick me into letting the children leave. When they are gone, you will have no value to anyone out there. You’re just a drifter, and yes, I believe you are running from something, probably the law, but I know people and you are a good man. But not an important one. Not one that will stop the soldiers from rushing in to kill me and my family.”

“Okay, just… wait for a minute. I’ve got to center myself and then you’ll see. And don’t shoot me. Carlos, that means you, too. I’m not going to change very much, just for a moment or two. Enough to prove to you who I am.” Bruce dropped to the floor and sat in a full lotus position, letting his body get centered, clearing his mind of the problems he faced. He breathed in and out, as he’d been taught in a grimy gym, the air hot and humid, and as he’d practiced for countless hours in a cold cabin in Canada.

He focused on his arm, just his right arm, and felt the muscles grow, the hot feeling of change boiling up and he controlled it because he was in no danger, not from these wild, grieving Zeledon boys. 

Holding himself at only the very beginning of the change he waited until he heard Miguel whisper a prayer to Mary, mother of Jesus, to protect them, then he willed himself to return to being just a thin, small man, a drifter on the run, as Miguel had called him. 

Not particularly a good man, though. Not with all the deaths and destruction on his conscience.

“That was _awesome!_ Man, your eyes changed to bright green, just like, for a moment, there, and, and your arm, it rippled and everything, turning green and bigger! Oh, wow! Can I have your autograph?”

Bruce looked up to see the tall, lanky teenager with the Avengers shirt staring down at him, while Tamara was attempting to drag the boy back, with no success. 

“What?” 

“Dude!” the kid said, wresting free from Tamara. “You’re like, my favorite! And now I’ll get to see all the Avengers in action!”

Bruce stayed on the floor, changing from lotus position to just sitting cross-legged. He figured he’d look less threatening that way, while the Zeledon family got over the shock of finding out they’d been treated for various ailments by the Hulk, sharing meals with a man who was a monster. 

The boy dropped down next to him, so close he was almost touching him. His face was alight with joy, maybe a bit of obsession, too. His brown eyes were staring at Bruce like he’d just found the Holy Grail.

“Hey, kid,” he said.

Then something the boy had said registered with him. He bit his lip and worried the hem of his grimy T-shirt, rolling it between his fingers. His team. Would they come for him? He’d asked them to let him go. He’d said he would come back if they needed him, but he’d asked them to respect his decision to disappear. And they had. 

“What? They won’t come,” he said to the boy. “My team. I, uh, asked them to not look for me.”

The boy shook his head. “Dude, don’t you know how much they’ve been working to clear your name? And you’re in trouble, aren’t you? Because you came in here to help. You bet they’re coming. They’re not going to let General Ross and his Hulkbusters capture you.”

“What?”

The boy rolled his eyes. “You say that a lot, Doctor Banner, or can I call you Bruce? Don’t you know _anything_ about what’s been going on?”

It was ridiculous to feel scolded, he told himself and shrugged. “Not really. I checked on the team sometimes, to make sure they were okay, but I didn’t want to read about myself.”

He hadn’t wanted to read any more of the condemnations about the Hulk, the fear people had, the plans to incarcerate him or try to kill him. 

The kid looked incredulous. “How can you-- Man, you’re a hero! I’ve got one of the posters, you know, of you catching Iron Man when he fell from the sky, after blowing up the alien ship; it was made from the videos that were taken. I never get tired of watching them. And I’ve got a poster signed by Captain America from his original artwork, of you getting ready to face that space whale thing, and it’s so big and you look so small and it’s like that story from Sunday School, of David fighting the giant with only a few rocks and his sling. Just like Captain America says, when he talks about you. And then you’re changing, just like you started to do here, but that time you don’t stop and you become the Hulk, and. It. Was. So. Cool!” The kid was practically bouncing with excitement.

Bruce scrubbed at his face, feeling tired, feeling like he had to set this kid straight. “It wasn’t cool. It was necessary, but it wasn’t cool. Or awesome. It was the right thing to do, then. And later, leaving was the right thing to do, because I can’t be with the team. I’ll bring them down, and it’s not fair to them. I’m no hero, kid.”

His team was on the way? Tony, Steve. Natasha and Clint. Thor? Was this kid right? He had a sinking feeling that his fan over here was telling the truth. And it was another reason to get this situation resolved, before his team showed up and got themselves in a fight with S.H.I.E.L.D. He had no doubt that Fury had already assembled a strike team to take him in. God, he did not want to see his team fighting against S.H.I.E.L.D. or Ross’ Hulkbuster team.

He looked up at Miguel, who was staring down at Bruce. “I need to check on Joaquin again. I’m going to get up, okay? I’m not going to hurt anybody here. But those soldiers out there and S.H.I.E.L.D. aren’t going to wait much longer before storming in here. And that’s when people will get hurt. Use me. Make a bargain, but Miguel, do it now. 

 

* * *

 

The negotiations dragged on for hours. Miguel demanded a lawyer to represent them as a plea agreement was hammered out for him and his brothers and cousins to be on probation and do community service for their actions in return for the safe release of the hostages and for turning the Hulk over to General Ross’ team. 

Miguel had also demanded that the news teams be allowed to interview him and his brothers and cousins about the father who had suffered indirectly because of American meddling. The news stations had agreed, and the lawyer had added that into the agreement being written for their peaceful surrender, based on Bruce being taken quietly into custody. 

Bruce tried to stay calm. It was hard, though, knowing that he’d have to turn himself into the American Army, at least for a time before he escaped. It didn’t sound like Ross’s men had showed up yet, but they must be in contact with the Army representatives stationed locally, and he was afraid of what they might have developed to keep him in captivity. Better to get turned over now, so he could get away before the rest of the show arrived.

The plan was to send the kids and their teachers out first, with Bruce staying as the sole hostage. They were released in small groups, the boy with the broken arm sent out with the first group. 

The kid who had Id’ed him as the Hulk refused to leave, though, to Bruce’s exasperation. Tamara, the teacher pressed into service as a nurse, was in tears trying to persuade the boy, Micah, to leave with her. 

Bruce had been keeping his distance from the kids and their teachers, although in Micah’s case it was kind of a lost cause. The kid kept popping back over to try to talk to him before Miguel and Carlos would send him back to the others. He wasn’t afraid of Bruce, but he at least had enough sense to be wary of pissing off intoxicated men with guns. 

Daniel, as Bruce had predicated, had been passed out for hours. The others, except for Miguel and Carlos, had kept drinking, although they’d slowed it down enough so they were still able to walk and talk. 

Bruce sighed, and rummaged in a desk while Tamara and Micah argued. He found what he had been looking for and approached them, after catching Miguel’s eye and nodding towards the two.

Tamara tried to step in front of Micah when Bruce came close and he held out his hands, showing the permanent marker he held. 

“Micah, you have to leave now. You get a choice. I can sign your T-shirt and get you invited for a tour of the Avenger’s tower and you walk out of here on your own, or those guys are going to lose patience and knock you out, and then you’ll be dragged out of here. What’s it going to be?”

Micah shoved his teacher to the side and a huge grin broke out on his face. “Really? I can go up inside the Avengers tower?”

“Yeah. I’ll write an IOU for it on your shirt and Tony will honor it. But you’ve got to go now. I’ll write it once you’re ready to step outside with Tamara. Deal?”

The kid frowned. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Bruce smiled wryly. “That’s the way it has to be, kid. That’s what being the Hulk means, and I’m used to it so don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay. You’ve got family and friends who are worried sick about you right now. Go and take care of them, all right?”

The boy looked troubled, expression morphing from gratification at the idea of the autograph and Avengers Tower tour to concerned. “What’s gonna happen to you? I mean, I’m not dumb. I know you’re only sticking around here so the guys who took us hostage can turn us loose and get their demands met without anybody getting killed. The cops aren’t gonna come in here with you in here.”

Bruce felt a bone deep weariness and he ran his hands through his hair, fingers catching on tangles. “No, but the Hulkbuster team will. Time to go, kid, before they show up because they won’t care if you or the others get hurt. They’ll just blame it on me. And I don’t want to change and bust up this place.”

The boy scowled, resigning himself to leaving, Bruce guessed. “All right, all _right_ , I’ll leave, but you didn’t answer my question, Doctor Banner. What’s going to happen to you?”

“Nothing much. I’ll just have to sleep for awhile. C’mon,” and he took Micah by the arm and started walking him towards the front door, Tamara trailing behind them.

He turned the kid around and wrote a message to Tony on the back of his shirt, and signed his name. 

“Hey kid, tell my team. . . Just, tell them I said hi,” and he stepped back as Carlos yelled to the waiting police that they were sending out two more hostages. 

 

* * *

It was a straightforward plan. Joaquin would be traded for a loaded syringe, and Bruce would inject himself in full view of the waiting American Army. Ross and his team weren’t here yet, but it wouldn’t be long before they arrived. 

He did have to get on the phone himself and warn the negotiator why overdosing him was a bad, bad idea. Then he was put on directly with the American Colonel in charge until Ross showed up. Sighing into the phone, he explained it all over again. “If you give me a large dose, of say, the opioid that’s used on, uh, elephants and my heart stops, the Hulk is going to come roaring out. You can’t kill me, but you can make that happen. And the Hulk isn’t making this deal, I am; he won’t honor it.” Bruce rubbed at his temple, not looking forward to this at all. 

He figured they’d probably double the dose he’d told them to give him, but that should still be okay. And if they didn’t do as he suggested, well then, that was on them. He’d learned through experience that when it came to saving his ass from dying of a drug overdose, his big green alter-ego was better than Narcan, much to his dismay before he’d learned to live with being the Hulk. 

He just didn’t want anybody to get hurt over this, so he made it a condition that bystanders and news crews were sent away and nearby shops and residences evacuated before he agreed to put himself under.

Because he’d honor the agreement, but only up to a point. He’d let them take him into custody, but once he was under the Army’s control, he’d let the Hulk bust them out. He wondered where he’d end up this time. He really hoped some remnant of his pants survived, but he was resigned to waking up naked, like he usually did. 

Once Miguel’s lawyer had given the thumbs up on the agreement, Miguel and Carlos and Bruce picked up Joaquin and carried him to the front steps of the palacio. 

It was dark outside, but the breeze brought with it a welcome drop in temperature from sweltering to pleasant. Bruce inhaled deeply, and stifled the thought that it might be a long time before he saw stars or felt sun or rain on his face again. He banished those thoughts; Ross couldn’t keep him for long. He’d always gotten away before, he would this time, too.

Joaquin was set down gently, and Bruce rechecked his wound, before the three of them retreated back inside. 

Four soldiers came slowly up the sidewalk to the front entry pulling a collapsed gurney while others covered them, their weapons pointed towards the door Bruce and the others had retreated through.

After Joaquin was loaded onto the gurney and strapped safely in, one of the soldiers held up a syringe and then placed it gingerly on the step nearest the door.

Bruce stood quietly until Joaquin had been loaded into an ambulance that left with its’ lights flashing and siren wailing before walking to the door.

“Bruce, wait.” It was Miguel. 

“We don’t have much time, Miguel. Get the rest of your brothers and cousins up here. After they take me, turn yourselves in. Leave the guns in here, okay?”

“Why are you _doing_ this?” Miguel’s expression was troubled, his gaze sharp. He was mostly sober by now, Bruce thought. Miguel stepped closer to him, looking down into Bruce’s eyes. The Zeledon men were tall, with big shoulders like their father and uncle had been. Miguel reached out a hand and placed it on Bruce’s shoulder. “The American children are no longer here, you could have changed, run away, and left us to face this trouble of our own making. Yes, our making. And I know what they say about you, about the green monster who might save a city one day and destroy it the next.”

“They’re not wrong,” Bruce said, thinking about the destruction he’d caused to New York City battling the Abomination and Loki’s Chitauri allies. There was no need to be a one person wrecking crew today. 

“I don’t believe them, not anymore. I’m sorry, my friend, for asking for you to come and help Joaquin. I’m sorry you have to turn yourself in, to save us.”

Bruce shrugged. “It’ll be okay.”

Miguel gave him a pointed look. “You don’t believe that, though.” 

“No, I’ll be fine.”

Miguel gently took both of Bruce’s hands in his own, and when he did, Bruce realized how he’d been twisting them together, over and over. 

“I will tell those news people of how you helped us, Bruce Banner. I will try to make them see that you are a good man. You should not be kept locked up, like that boy was telling the other children General Ross would do to you.”

Bruce’s mouth twisted up into something that was not a smile. Ross wasn’t interested in keeping him a prisoner to keep the world safe from the Hulk. Ross wanted others like him, but monsters he could control. Weapons. He wanted Bruce’s genetic material. The idea of using it had seduced others besides Ross. He didn’t trust S.H.I.E.L.D. not to exploit him for it, if he’d agreed to their terms, and even fellow academics like Dr. Stern who had tried to help Bruce reverse the damage he’d done to himself, had been tempted to experiment with Bruce’s blood. At least all the bags of his blood that Stern had cultured had been destroyed.

“Why did you do this, Bruce? Why help us, why help the children of a country that will imprison you? You owe them nothing, you owe _us_ nothing, and you will lose your freedom.”

Bruce shrugged and pulled his hands free. “Goodbye Miguel.”

“Are you not going to tell us what idiots we have been, my friend, to make children pay the sins of their elders?” Miguel said, looking miserable. 

Bruce just shrugged again. “I would have stopped you and the others, if there had been no other way to save those kids and their teachers and the museum staff, and I wasn’t going to let your brother die, Miguel.”

“Bruce. . .”

“This way is better. Go and get the others, time is not on your side.”

He turned his back to Miguel and walked out the door, pumping his left fist as he let his arm dangle until he sat down on the steps and smartly slapped at the veins in the crook of his left arm. When he was satisfied with their appearance he picked up the syringe, uncapped it, and flicked it before slowly injecting himself with whatever cocktail of drugs this was. Probably something to put him under quickly as well as something to keep him under. They might set him up on a drip once he was unconscious, to keep him that way.

His physiology was adaptive though. He would come around. Then he would escape, one way or the other. 

When he was just Bruce Banner, especially dressed in clothes like these old jeans and ratty T-shirt, his hair a curly mess that shouted out that the owner was poor, couldn’t afford a professional hair cut, people underestimated him. They figured a small guy like him couldn’t hold his own. But he’d learned more than to just control his breathing from his martial arts teacher. 

It had served him well in the past. He rolled his eyes a little, thinking about how Clint had told him he’d been codenamed by S.H.I.E.L.D. after that wandering Shaolin priest in the old Kung Fu show.

Dreamily he started to feel the effects of the drugs and he curled up on the steps, an arm tucked under his head. He missed Clint’s goofiness, when the guy let his guard down, the way he was taking back the life Loki had stolen from him. He missed Steve’s earnestness, his easy friendship and protectiveness and he smiled at the memory of the sweet way he’d kissed Bruce on the steps of the museum. He missed Tony’s brilliance and irreverence and the way he’d just been his friend, poking him and sharing his snacks. Tony was exactly the kind of friend parents would warn you about – well, not his because Mom was dead, and his dad had been a dick, but parents who set rules and didn’t want you to get into trouble, those kind of parents -- because Tony made bad ideas sound so plausible, so much fun, and his grin and whispered, “For Science” could talk Bruce into coming along for the ride. Tony, he, he, he could seduce a guy. Maybe not for sex, well, yeah, he could, but, but for other things. Like staying with him and working with him. Thor, he would have your back, even his, Bruce’s, despite the Hulk’s giving him that love tap when fighting the Chitauri. He didn’t hold grudges, not Thor, and Bruce liked that about him.

Natasha was brave. She’d been terrified of him, and she’d tracked him down in India anyway, and had stared him down when he’d let her see some of the anger that constantly simmered below his calm exterior. He wishes… wishes… the Hulk hadn’t chased her through the helicarrier. He wishes . . . wishes. . . 

His eyes closed and he fell unconsciousness wanting to wish for something that he can’t remember.

* * *


End file.
